Chain of Command
by Gamemakers
Summary: More than anything, Hux craves discipline, and that is the one thing Kylo Ren cannot offer.
1. Chapter 1

It took Hux three hours at the Academy to realize he was not meant to be a low-ranking officer. The cramped quarters and lack of discipline among the other recruits rankled his more refined sensibilities. The instruction itself was no better. Inept instructors teaching dense students about basic matters they should have mastered years ago. The entire system had been designed with mediocrity in mind. And he was far from mediocre.

But all the same, he spent his late teens following the drill sergeants' orders to the letter. For though Hux knew he was intended for something far better, the only path to success was through discipline. This, his father had told him many times, and Hux believed him to be correct, was where the Republic would fail. They had no real organization, nobody who was capable of listening to orders and seeing them followed. Simply look at the heroes they worshipped. Han Solo, traitor and pirate. Leia Organa, who had betrayed her post in the Imperial Senate and misused her power to hand off highly classified information to the Rebels. Luke Skywalker, who had abandoned his position during the Rebellion for unapproved training on an Outer Rim world and now was building an army of Force-sensitives entirely beyond the control of the Senate. Nearly every high-profile figure in the Republic had betrayed their position in the Empire, and someday soon, that unstable foundation would betray them.

Hux looked forward to watching their fall at the side of the Supreme Leader. Better yet, he could be personally overseeing their destruction from the bridge of his own Star Destroyer. That thought brought a smile to his lips, and it propelled him through eighty more pushups. Physical might wasn't needed in the higher ranks, but it was necessary to reach them. He added a few extra at the end. His arms and chest burned and he had soaked his shirt with sweat, but this would all be worthwhile.

* * *

His first command was a squad of eight stormtroopers. He seethed at the news that despite being at the very top of his class, despite his father's position, despite having done everything within his power to excel, he had been given such a low-ranking post. The troopers themselves made the position seem even more of a snub. Their training must have been as flawed as his own, for the eight had the absolute minimum skills required of an Imperial Stormtrooper. Disappointing, certainly, but it presented a far greater opportunity than any other post. Hux worked day and night for it, but his squad soon rivaled any special operations unit. His command was increased to overseeing sixteen squads within two months.

That evening, Hux allowed himself to turn off his datapads and enjoy a glass or two of the brandy he'd been saving for just such an occasion. He watched the stars from the viewport of his new, private quarters, slouching in his seat as he hadn't in years. From space, without an atmosphere to obscure light, the stars always seemed brighter, and thousands that would not be visible planetside appeared.

And they were all his for the taking. The galaxy was truly a beautiful place.

He didn't sit still for long. He never did. There were troops to train, schedules to keep, mountains of paperwork that still had to be completed. Nothing came without a cost, and he would pay in his own sweat. With discipline, cunning, connections, and a bit of luck, there were no limits to how far one could climb. That, or some variation thereof, he had heard said more times than he cared to remember. He fully intended on testing that hypothesis.

* * *

Over the next five years, he received a new, higher position on average every fourteen months. Colonel Hux, it was said, had attracted the personal interest of General Tagge. He normally would not stand for gossip within his ranks, but Hux had no desire to dissuade this particular rumor.

It wasn't an unreasonable thought. Such a quick rise through the ranks was nearly unheard of. Even Admiral Priell had taken longer to achieve a similar rank within the Imperial Navy. He had heard that comparison made several times, but the one that he personally favored was with the deceased Grand Moff Tarkin. The moff wiled away twenty years in the Old Republic's Outland Region Security Force before reaching colonel.

So it came as no real surprise when late one afternoon, just before he normally would go to the mess hall for dinner, he received a summons from Tagge. Hux was to report to the conference room in the general's quarters on the _Finalizer_ as soon as possible. A lifetime spent in and around the military had taught him what such a communication meant. An emergency important enough to require a personal meeting had arisen, and the general was entrusting it to him. More than likely, he could have eaten a quick dinner before heading out, but he had always hungered more for power and advancement than anything else. It was all Hux could do to keep his pace even and his posture military straight on his way to his personal shuttle.

He estimated that the trip would take thirty minutes. It ended up taking twenty-five. He thanked the pilot for his efficiency on his way out the hatch. It was good form to be appreciative of excellent work. It kept morale high and the troops loyal.

As he was guided through the Star Destroyer's long, winding corridors to the general's personal chambers, Hux could not help but notice what poor condition the _Finalizer_ had fallen into. In several places, he saw scuff marks on the dark floors, which had lost their usual glossy finish. Stations that he knew should be manned sat empty, and the troops walked ever so slightly out of formation. It was a far cry from what he remembered from his first tour of the _Finalizer_ when he was a boy. His father, knowing his son's early interest in the Empire's old superweapons, had secured a tour shortly before the ship was commissioned. The memory of the hangars large enough to swallow twenty of his family's personal ships, the gleaming black hallways, and the green flash of the laser cannons had never faded from his mind. Pity to see that it was now in such poor condition. It made him wonder what state the rest of the fleet was in if the general's flagship looked like this.

Hux kept these thoughts to himself as he was escorted into the conference room. Already waiting were a dozen other high-ranking officials, nearly all of whom he recognized from earlier briefings. An emergency of some sort, then, but not one that he alone could handle. Interesting. He saluted General Tagge, which was not required under circumstances like this but might be remembered later on, before finding a spot at the table. Now, he had a chance to study the room's other occupants more closely. All were older than him, and each of their insignia plaques indicated a rank of at least major general. He would have to make a lasting impression, then.

Tagge waited for the rest of the officers to arrive and find their seats before beginning. "Gentlemen, there's been a new development in the Republic, and the Supreme Leader thought it best to keep the news within the officers' ranks for the time being." He paused for a moment, and Hux felt himself leaning in ever so slightly. "The Jedi Order has been destroyed. The trainees were annihilated during a raid four hours ago. All have been confirmed dead. Their leader, Luke Skywalker, was not present at the time of the attack, but a manhunt is underway. Suspicions are that he will eventually go to his sister, General Leia Organa, and rejoin the Resistance fighters, but it is not believed that he will attempt to train any new Force-users in the foreseeable future."

There were several cheers from the officers, and a round of applause erupted. And why not? They had defeated Skywalker's Jedi, perhaps the largest victory for the First Order in Hux's lifetime. Still, something was not right. The general would not have called a meeting like this to deliver only good news, and the others would do well to realize it. He clapped a handful of times, the absolute minimum he could get away with, then sat silently, waiting for the man to continue. Hux did his best not to scowl when the mustachioed general next to him elbowed him in the side, urging him further into the celebration.

Tagge allowed the celebration to continue for a moment, then raised his hand and waited for the noise to die down. "That news, I hope you will share with your troops. The morale boost that such a victory can provide will be invaluable in the coming days.

"We will be use the momentum our victory against the Jedi has given us with a strike on the Iridonian System." A holoprojector came to life, projecting a three-dimensional image of that sector over the center of the table. Hux did not need to examine the map before he understood the strategy behind the attack. Iridonia should not be a difficult world to take, and its position in the Mid Rim allowed the Empire to begin its trek towards the Republic's Core Worlds. It was a wise choice. "Such a victory will allow us a staging ground from which to launch attacks on both Hutt Space and the Republic.

"General Traile, Colonel Hux, your ships will be directing the attack on the system's defenses. Then, your troops, along with those of General Norring, will put down any resistance planetside. The Zabrak are not closely allied with the Republic, but they are expected to mount a strong defense against our attack. The First Order will begin peace talks immediately once the system is locked down, and the intention is to take the system with as little loss of life as possible. Generals, colonel, we will talk more in detail about this operation after this meeting is complete.

"There are other developments that the Supreme Leader wishes to keep word of in the highest ranks. Our victory over the Jedi was not due to the troops alone. A new addition to the First Order was responsible for both the reconnaissance to find the Temple and the assault." The image changed to a dark-robed, masked humanoid. "These operatives, known as the Knights of Ren, are Force users with abilities similar to those you may have heard of in legends about the Jedi. They are one-being armies, and the First Order intends on using them as such."

Dark Jedi, then. No, not so much Jedi as an entire force comprised of new Vaders. Effective, deadly… and dangerous. Hux sat back in his chair, studying the projected figure. Yes, the similarities had to be intentional. The dark hair just visible behind the mask suggested that the piece was aesthetic, not functional.

"These Knights will not be within our chain of command. Instead, they will report directly to the Supreme Leader." General Tagge's voice betrayed his unease with the arrangement. "However, they will often be positioned on your vessels. Any resources they ask for, you are to provide. They have as high of security clearances as anyone sitting in this room, so any information you have, they will also be given access to. Do not deny them anything, and do not question their actions. Any complaints they have against you will go directly to Supreme Leader Snoke." As he spoke, Tagge grew quieter, but in the perfectly silent room, he could easily be heard. "The existence of the Knights of Ren is to remain within this group until the time is right. Only when you are given news that a Knight is to be assigned to your vessel may you reveal their existence to your troops. You are dismissed. Good luck."

As the rest of the officers began to file from the room, Hux, Traile, and Norring stayed behind. "Gentlemen, the strategists are still working on the exact details of the plan, but I believe you can start readying your troops. I believe the assault will begin in two days' time." He was an old man, General Tagge, tired but warm, the way one might imagine a grandfather to be.

But his plan left much to be desired. Now, Hux knew, came his real chance to make an impression. "If I might offer a suggestion, sir?"

General Tagge nodded.

"The Zabrak are hardly necessary to our plans. We need the position the world offered, not the population." He paused, allowing his words to sink in. "I believe it would be foolish to waste stormtroopers' lives on an unnecessary effort to hold the planet when we could fire upon all settlements from space. Iridonia has no great mineral wealth. There is no need to keep the planet's surface intact." As he spoke, he watched the other men's faces. Traille was nodding along. Norring gave no clue as to his thoughts on the matter.

But the only opinion that really mattered was that of General Tagge. The man mulled Hux's words over for a moment. He looked older than Hux had ever seen him, too weary for the First Order's highest command. "It's callous. Brutal."

"It's effective," he countered, careful to keep his voice flat.

Traille stepped in. "He's right. The Zabrak know their world better than we do. Even once we take the world, there's no guarantee that we'll be able to stop them from rebelling."

"General Norring, do you have any thoughts on this matter?"

"I believe that Colonel Hux's plan is worth investigating, sir."

The general nodded. "I have my reservations, but I will suggest it to our strategists. The Supreme Leader will have to authorize any action as extreme as the destruction of a world. Thank you, officers, for your input. I will be contacting you very shortly with additional information on the attack."

He knew when he had been dismissed. Hux saluted with perfect form, as he always did. General Tagge did not break eye contact until he turned to leave, and even as he filed out of the room, he could feel the man's gaze prickling against the back of his neck.

* * *

After Iridonia, the First Order grew quickly. System after system fell as Hutt Space and the other edges of the Republic came under Imperial rule. For the worlds, the choice was simple: surrender or die. Over and over, General Hux delivered new worlds to the Supreme Leader with only light casualties. Tarkin's dream of a rule of fear had finally come to fruition.

In such an environment, there was little purpose for aged gentlemen officers like General Tagge. An entire generation of officers' removal opened many opportunities at the very top of the Imperial hierarchy, and many hoped to fill these roles. Hux had seethed when Norring, the thin-faced coward who had claimed all the glory from the Iridonian assault, had been promoted to Tagge's old position. It had been his plan, and it was his fleet that had borne the brunt of the Zabraks' attack.

But as he looked over the bridge of his new _Leveler,_ General Hux could not be disappointed in the rewards that the assault had brought him. So far, his high rank had even saved him from any contact with the Knights of Ren. They were causing chaos within the fleet, destroying equipment in temper tantrums that they claimed were necessary to channel the Force and demanding resources at short notice beyond what the fleet could easily provide. The twelve Knights, he had heard estimated, cost the First Order as much as ten thousand troops. And though along with that information came tales of their unique skills in battle, their strength, even their ability to control minds to some degree, Hux had a difficult time believing that they were worth the trouble.

It seemed that the Supreme Leader wanted to test that conviction. He received word that a Knight named Kylo Ren would be posted to the _Leveler_ only one hour before the man was due to arrive. Immediately, he set the crew to work readying one of the officer's quarters for this Kylo Ren and ensuring that every centimeter of the ship was spotless. He would not have the Supreme Leader hearing that his command ship was anything short of perfectly managed. Once he was convinced that his orders were being carried out, he typed a request for Kylo Ren's personnel file into his datapad.

ACCESS DENIED

Command hadn't given him a high enough security clearance to see the man's file, but they expected him to accept him on board? This was ridiculous. He had one of the highest security clearances in the First Order. No information should be withheld from him. Hux started to shout for the communications officer to get in touch with Intelligence, but then he thought better of it. He could not stop Kylo Ren from coming on board. In addition, he could not go through the usual chain of command for more information on Ren. That much was clear. He could, however, do everything within his power to learn more about the mysterious Knights of Ren.

"Tellers," he said.

"Yes, sir." The female officer saluted, as well she should.

"Contact Colonel Nadret and tell him to report to Hangar Three-See to meet our visitor. Tell him to escort the man to the chambers we've made up for him and then to come directly to me."

"Very good, sir."

"And Tellers, send three squads in full dress armor with him. We will want to extend a warm welcome to our new guest of honor."

"Right away, sir."

Hux looked over the bridge one more time to be certain that everything was in order, then left for the viewing platform over Hangar 3-C. He wanted to see one of these Knights of Ren for himself.


	2. Chapter 2

He had to be proud of his troops. From where he stood, several levels above the hangar, they could have been twenty-four reflections of the same man, all standing ramrod straight in their shining white armor. They remained in perfect formation as the time for Ren to arrive came and passed. Hux was not so patient. According to the chrono on his wrist, Ren should have arrived half an hour ago. He thumbed on his comlink. "Tellers."

"Yes, sir?"

"Have you received any updates on Kylo Ren's arrival?"

"No, sir, not that I can find. The last recorded communication from the shuttle arrived over an hour ago, and it said that he would be arriving half an hour ago." There was a short pause. "I will ask the communications officer if he received any messages that haven't been entered yet."

"Do so. Contact me if they've heard anything." Not bothering to sign off, he closed the connection and slammed the device down on the railing in front of him with far more force than he would have were he not alone. The _clang_ of metal on metal was satisfying, but it did not fix the damage that had already been done. He had wasted forty-five minutes waiting for his arrival, as had the three squads of stormtroopers and Colonel Nadret. He had hoped to oversee the drills on the marching deck this afternoon, but now they were almost over. Ren had lowered the efficiency of the _Leveler_ before he had even stepped on board. Hux didn't want to consider that it might be a hint of things to come.

His comlink crackled. "General Hux."

"Sir, we've just received a transmission from Kylo Ren's shuttle. He'll be arriving very soon."

"And what exactly does soon mean to Lord Ren?"

"They refused to give any more detail, sir. We directed them towards Hangar Three-See and told them that we were prepared for their arrival." He could hear Tellers' shoulders sagging.

He forced his jaw to unclench. None of this was her fault. "Thank you. Keep me aware of any updates."

"Of course, sir."

For what had to be the dozenth time, Hux wiped any trace of dust from his uniform and checked that his hair was still perfectly in place. He did not have to sacrifice his or his ship's neatness just because Kylo Ren had no appreciation for order. He had turned his glove inside out to buff away a fingerprint on the viewport when he finally caught glimpse of the knight's shuttle. Hux slipped his glove back on and waited as the shuttle landed. He was familiar enough with the _Upsilon_ -class that he could perfectly imagine the hiss of the valves and the slight scent of coolant in the steam that drifted out as the hatch opened. The designers at Sienar had kept the grand entrances of high-ranking Imperials in mind when drafting the blueprints of this ship. The metallic black ramp lowered slowly, and the design of the wings kept spectators from seeing the passengers until they had nearly reached the ground. It was a beautiful design, and one that he had often admired, but now, Hux thought it nothing but a hindrance. Colonel Nadret waited at the bottom of the ramp, further blocking his view. Only when the man had fully entered the hangar did Hux have his first view of Kylo Ren.

The leader of the Knights of Ren was tall, towering easily fifteen centimeters above Nadret's head. Full, dark robes and a hood pulled over his head made him appear even larger. Hux recognized the helmet that Ren wore from the briefing he had attended over a year ago on the knights, and he wondered if perhaps this individual was the one in the hologram. There was something similar in the way the two held themselves, the same forced rigidity, but he would never believe an identification based on stance alone.

Hux had about thirty seconds to watch Kylo Ren and Colonel Nadret talk before the colonel began to lead the man further into the ship. Ren paused for a moment before he followed. He turned and looked up, straight at Hux. His world went perfectly, terribly still. For several heartbeats, his eyes met Ren's, and like one of the kidras on his home planet, he froze, unable to run away. Even if he could break the connection, Hux would not have, for turning away was a sign of fear. And so he did his best to keep his posture rigid and his mind sharp as Kylo Ren's eyes behind the mask dug deeper and deeper inside of him.

But as suddenly as it had started, the moment was gone. Ren allowed Nadret to begin his tour of the _Leveler_ , and Hux was left staring over an empty hangar. He gave himself a moment to compose himself, taking a few deep breaths to settle his racing heart. It was only theatrics, he told himself. The dark-robes, the mask, the posture… all of it was meant to elicit a reaction, and it had succeeded. He, a general, had fallen for nothing more than a parlor trick. Ren must have seen him as he got off the shuttle and then ignored him until it was time for his little act. Pitiful, really.

But the viewport was made of one-way glass. He'd chosen this hangar for that very reason. Perhaps he'd been mistaken. Hux would like to believe that he knew every detail of his ship, but was it not human to err?

It was only a quick detour to check the view from the hangar on the way back to the bridge. Hux found the spot where Ren had been standing and peered up towards the third-level viewport. Dark, just as he'd thought. Even though he'd left the light on, he couldn't even begin to make out any shapes in the room. If Ren hadn't been able to see him, how -

"Are you all right, sir?" one of the guards assigned to Lord Ren's shuttle asked. Even the filters were not enough to remove the concern from her voice.

He forced himself out of the hazy world of magic and superstition and back into reality. "Yes, soldier. Good work, the both of you." He tossed them a quick salute, and before they could respond in kind, he had turned to leave. Once he was in the hall and safely out of earshot, he commed Tellers again. "I want all the information you can gather on the Knights of Ren, the Sith, and the Force sent to my office immediately. Send it as you find it. I want this as quickly as possible."

"Yes, sir. Will you be returning to the bridge?"

A squad of troops passed by as he considered it. "No, I'll be in my office. Have all non-essential communications directed to Colonel Nadret until I inform you otherwise."

"Very good, sir."

He was about to sign off when another thought came to him. "And Tellers, tell no one what you're looking for."

"Of course, sir."

* * *

The first set of files she sent him contained little he did not already know. A very basic history of the Sith, a short explanation of the Force, a couple biographies of Sith Lords… nothing he had not learned years ago. All the same, Hux found himself poring over the details of the biographies, searching for evidence that his experience earlier this afternoon had been something more than his imagination. It did not take him long to find. The dark side, one source quoted, was a pathway to many abilities some would consider to be unnatural. And it went much further than seeing invisible people. Just in the biographies Tellers had provided, he found references to Sith Lords choking victims without touching them and conjuring storms of lightning that emanated from the body itself, killing men with their minds alone. Other powers further defied reason or explanation, and Hux wondered if perhaps the authors had sacrificed accuracy in the face of legend. Nets of dark energy that slowly sliced any being caught in them into thousands of tiny cubes. Bombs of pure hatred that could obliterate all life for kilometers. Exaggerated, surely, for sensationalism always sold better than the truth, but even the possibility of such powers was none too comforting.

But Kylo Ren, as far as he could decipher, was no Sith Lord. And with any fortune, that wouldn't change anytime soon. Unfortunately, Tellers had not yet been able to find any information on the Knights of Ren. The force, comprised of a dozen Force-sensitives who reported to no one but the Supreme Leader himself, had become common knowledge within the fleet months ago, but there was little to no available information on their abilities. The pragmatic side of Hux understood the caution: when much of a weapon's effectiveness was built on fear, some degree of mystery allowed the enemy's mind to create a monster far, far worse than reality could conjure. However, another part of him saw the lack of information as a challenge, and nobody in his family had been one to back away from a challenge.

He did not know how long he sat, devouring every scrap of information Tellers could provide. The pounding between his eyes and the stiffness of his back moaned of long hours spent without moving away from the datapad or his desk, but he ignored them. He would read until he collapsed or he knew everything his assistant could find relating to Kylo Ren. If his days-long studying binges while at the Academy were any indication, Hux would put good money on the latter.

When the door swished open, he did not look up from the datapad. "I said I was not to be disturbed." No response came, and he was finally forced to put down his reading. "I will not accept insub –"

Up close, Kylo Ren made an even more imposing figure than he had in the hangar. Tall and broad-shouldered, he took up nearly the entire doorway, and the dark mask made his expression unreadable. Yes, the human mind created the galaxy's worst monsters when faced with the unknown. Hux's ability to appear unshakeable had proven invaluable countless times in battle, and he again thanked his father from instilling at least the appearance of calm in him from a very early age. "I gave orders to be left undisturbed."

"You seem to have developed quite an interest in me, General." The man's voice was deep and had an edge of the mechanical to it. A voice changer like Vader's, then. Interesting.

Not for the first time, Hux wondered if the masks of the Knights of Ren concealed non-human features. There were thousands, perhaps millions, of bipedal species in the galaxy, and with bulky enough clothing and a covering over the face, many of them could pass for humans. The Supreme Leader would not stray so far from the Empire to allow openly deploy non-humans.

Hux chose to ignore his statement. "Who allowed you in?"

"There's no need to punish your subordinates, General. They required some persuasion before they would allow me inside."

He understood the suggestion. "I will not have you playing mind tricks on my ship. The Supreme Leader asked me to make the fleet's resources available to you, not to relinquish my command."

For the first time, Ren looked directly at him. Did the man expect him to cower? Hux did not break eye contact. "If your guards were not so weak-minded, my powers would not have worked on them. Perhaps it is you and your training that have failed them. I read in your file that you devised the new system yourself."

"They are security guards. Their job is to follow orders, not be free thinkers."

"And the others under your command? How is it that your assistant, Tellers, I believe, was so easily convinced to give me the information I sought?"

He could feel heat creeping up from under his collar and up his neck. Hux had to finish this conversation before the flush spread to his cheeks. Putting his stylus back in its proper place bought him a couple seconds to calm down. "I'll be sure to address that particular flaw for key individuals in the next version of the course, then." He waited for a response, but none came. "Lord Ren, if you have nothing else to say, I have many important matters to attend to this evening."

"And you, General?"

"And I?" His question was answered when he felt something brush against his mind. His entire body went rigid. Hux fought to keep calm, to stop that probing touch from going any deeper. Kylo Ren's hand was outstretched, and he focused on that hand and his own mind until he sensed Ren's retreat.

"Very interesting, General Hux. I will escort myself back to my cabin. I'm sure you have much left to learn." With a swirl of dark robes, Ren was gone. Hux allowed himself to sit back in his chair, massaging his temples as he watched the security footage of Ren walking down the halls. Every few seconds, the monitors that he appeared on flickered, sometimes cutting out entirely for a moment or two before coming back to life. Another Force power, then. It was good of Ren to show them off; soon enough, he'd run out of tricks, and Hux would know all his abilities.

For now, though, only one thing was certain: the power structure aboard the _Leveler_ had changed substantially once Ren came aboard. What remained to be seen, and possibly rectified, was where he stood in this new hierarchy.


	3. Chapter 3

After that initial encounter, he did not see Kylo Ren for nearly two weeks. The _Leveler_ was a large ship, and it was entirely possible to go weeks or even months at a time without encountering a given individual by chance alone. Chance, in this case, seemed an unlikely culprit. Had he destroyed a row of control panels his third day on board a new vessel, he would have avoided the ship's head officer as well. And with a battery of Force powers at his disposal, who knew how long Ren could steer clear of Hux?

In any case, it was impossible to know how much time the man had actually spent on board, for Ren refused to log his departures according to the standard protocol. After a second unapproved departure had resulted in an argument with the officer on duty, Ren had gone so far as to demand that all vessels besides his own be removed from Hangar 3-C and that all crew, even security, be barred from the area. Hux had no authority to stop him. With the new tendency of the security cams on the hangar's level to malfunction, nobody besides Lord Ren could accurately track his comings and goings.

He should not devote so much time or energy to Kylo Ren. Hux still had a fleet to maintain, soldiers to drill, and political obligations to fulfill. And he did complete all the necessary tasks, just as he had always done. To the casual observer, little in Hux's routine had changed. The one true difference came at night. His usual seven hours of sleep had been reduced to six in order to learn more about the Sith. He devoured the files that Tellers continued to send until she reached the upper limit of her security clearance. Afterwards, he had done his own research. It quickly became more of an academic interest than a practical one. From what he had observed of Ren, and the information his interviews with crew members who had been in closer contact with the knight yielded, the man's powers did not even begin to compare to those of the ancient Sith. A few ruined control panels or choking a subordinate with one's mind alone? Child's play compared to the ability to destroy thousands or millions of lives in an instant.

Ever the tactician, he could not help but consider how such weapons could be utilized today. Hux was too young to have seen either of the Death Stars, but his father had often regaled him with tales of the superweapons. The jewels in the Empire's throne, the final piece that would bring the systems into line at last. And yet, both had failed. The Emperor's remains still floated through the Endor system, indistinguishable from the millions of tons of machinery and billion troops that had been on board at the time of the explosion. A pity, of course, but also a lesson to be learned. Engineering, by its nature, came with flaws. True, with enough patience and careful consideration, many of them could be rooted out, but more than likely, some would persist.

Some lessons, though, were best considered and then ignored. Twenty-five years after the Battle of Yavin, people still spoke of Alderaan in hushed tones. Despite the trillions of credits and billion lives lost, the Death Star had made a surviving impact. War itself was a risk-benefit analysis put into action.

But possibilities, until they were to fruition, were merely that: possibilities. And for an officer with hopes of going far, they were dangerous ideas indeed.

* * *

Months of relative calm were seen by many as a blessing. Hux was not one of them. It had been nearly seven months since their last battle, and he could see its effect on his troops. They lacked the edge that made for a top-tier military. For them, the exercises had stopped being real and had faded back into hypotheticals. And with the constant rotation of troops throughout the First Order, nearly a quarter of them had never been in combat under Hux. He shuddered at the thought that many of the younger stormtroopers had likely never seen combat. If events continued as they had, those stormtroopers never would. It was wasteful in the extreme, to spend the hundreds of thousands of credits and thousands of man-hours to train a stormtrooper and then never use them, but he could not force the higher-ups into action. Even when the Resistance gathering support, General Norring failed to send all forces to crush them before their disease could spread.

Looking out from the bridge of the _Leveler,_ one could easily come to the conclusion that the galaxy was at peace. Space was misleading in that way. Unless one was in the very center of a firefight, there was almost always some view that showed nothing but the stars stretching on for light years. More telling was the activity on the command deck. Today, the crew members sat at their stations, and the buzzing of scores of quiet conversations and shuffling flimsi joined the low, constant hum of the engine in a melody that any head officer should find reassuring.

Personally, though he would never admit it out loud, he wanted more. And so, when the communications officer informed him that he had a comm from General Norring, it was difficult to keep his step even and his face blank as he moved to the private communications booth. This time, the junior communication officer's fumbling with the controls could almost be forgiven, as it bought him a moment to compose himself. Nevertheless, he made a mental note to have the man reprimanded later. Inefficiencies, even convenient ones, could not be tolerated.

Hux straightened himself and held up one arm in a perfect First Order salute. "General Hux, at ease." Strange. Usually, Norring took at least a few seconds before issuing that order. He had suspected for a while now that there was no real lag between the two devices and that the man simply enjoyed watching others humble themselves before him. It was always good to know one's suspicions were correct. "General Jeffat's fleet has engaged with the Resistance in the Varonat system, and he is requesting reinforcements. How quickly can you be there?"

"Half an hour, sir, perhaps less. It should be no more than a quick hyperspace jump."

The hologram before him nodded. "Ready your troops. Jeffat reports only a space battle, but it may have spread to the surface by the time you arrive." Almost before he finished the sentence, the light flickered, and the image faded away.

A heartbeat later, he was hurrying down the hall, already shouting orders into his comlink. By the time he reached the bridge, the _Leveler_ was en route to Varonat, and the violet, twisting folds of hyperspace welcomed him home again.

* * *

In these moments, where everything could go to pieces in an instant and nothing was certain, Hux felt in control. He gave orders, his subordinates followed them, and the battle shrank to a game of dejarik between him and the opposing commander. And the opposing commander, whoever they might be, was proving a worthy opponent. He, or, Hux supposed, she, had reduced Jeffat, to a point where he was hardly worth considering. With his fleet crippled by the Resistance force, the man would have little impact on the final outcome. What had he been thinking, pressing the attack instead of waiting for backup? The Resistance fleet was large, larger than the most recent Intelligence reports suggested, and the First Order needed to take Varonat intact. Jeffat's seven capital ships and small fleet of TIEs had had no chance. Though, Hux supposed, with an idiot as their commander, the fleet had been doomed from the beginning.

The situation was still salvageable. His force rivaled that of the Resistance, and with the remnants of Jeffat's fleet, they should be able to overpower their opponent. The difficulty lay, as it usually did, with convincing the other general to cede control of his fleet. General Jeffat was of a higher rank, and under normal circumstances, that would end the discussion. Normal circumstances did not include having a third of one's fleet in total ruin after a clear tactical error. "General, I must speak freely. Your battle plan isn't working. If we continue like this, the Resistance will keep Varonat, and nearly a quarter of the First Order's navy will be destroyed."

Jeffat had never been one to listen to reason. "My plan will work now that your fleet is here as well. The plan was drafted when we thought the Resistance's forces were smaller. Now that we outnumber them, it will work."

"Your plan was not designed for the type of fleet we now have. It relies on several capital ships, and six of your seven have been crippled. The _Leveler_ by herself does not have enough firepower to make it work."

The man's eyes narrowed. "You tread terribly close to insubordination, Hux."

He, unlike the other general, knew when to retreat, if only in appearances. "Apologies, sir. That was not my intention. What I mean to say is that my top tactician has been drafting a revised plan based off of your original. They believe that their version is better suited to our available resources." There was no reason to mention that Hux himself was the top tactician, or that the plan had only the slightest of resemblances to the original. Methods were not important. Only the results mattered.

"General, I will not repeat my –" The man's eyes widened, and his hands flew towards his throat, scrambling to pull away an invisible attacker.

"You will give control up to General Hux." Kylo Ren held one hand forward, the fingers pitched together. Hux leaned in closer to the hologram as Jeffat's eyes widened even further with surprise. His hands still worked at his throat, but a terrible slackness had come over him, as though he was being held up not by his own will, but by some unseen hand. The view would surely be fascinating under any circumstances, but knowing the power that lay behind the grip, the anatomy of the murder, sucked him in ever further. Just as those last remnants of consciousness were about to slip away from Jeffat, the general nodded. "General Hux," said Ren. "I will be on the surface with a hundred troops." With that, the man turned and left.

Afterwards, when he thought back to this battle, Hux would wonder why he did not argue the point. Ren had no right to claim his troops, and a ground mission had not seemed necessary. During those times, long after lights-out, he would remember Jeffat, and the dry, rasping sounds that had escaped him just as Ren's Force grip tightened around his throat. Then, it was all too easy to realize why things had unfolded the way they had. But in the moment, there were no questions to be asked. There was only the hurricane of battle, and Hux stood at its eye.

* * *

 **A/N:** In response to the review left by KaiserPhoenix, yes, there will eventually be Kylo/Hux romance. Thank you for reading, and I hope you're enjoying the story so far


	4. Chapter 4

Were he a religious man, Hux would have used the last twenty seconds before exiting hyperspace to pray. Instead, he took his place at the tactical board, and silently counted the seconds as he popped each of his knuckles behind his back. The plan should work, but should work did not guard against every possible circumstance. In battle, he had observed, being mired in unforeseen complications was the usual state.

"Three seconds." Had Praxt ever seen battle before? No, not that Hux could recall. He was doing a remarkably good job of keeping his voice calm as he counted down. That ability would serve him well. "Two… one."

The _Leveler_ returned to realspace with a jolt. A heartbeat later, he understood just how dire the situation truly was. The Resistance had Jeffat's fleet surrounded, and Hux could see blips of First Order TIE fighters and small cruisers disappearing at an alarming rate. That would change as soon as his TIEs were able to join the dogfights, so that was of little importance. More pressing was that their advantage of surprise was quickly disappearing. Already, the bridge occasionally took on an acid-green tinge as blasts of X-wing laserfire hit the shields, and the slower-moving capital ships would add their fire soon enough.

His task, then, was to free Jeffat's ships before the Resistance did any more damage. "Concentrate all heavy fire on Sector Seven," he commanded. Jeffat had not managed to punch through the ring of Resistance ships, but he had managed to create a dent in that area that the other general had not yet been able to fill. "Hold back our midsize ships ready to attack Sector Four." If the Resistance general was smart, that was where he or she would pull ships from in order to strengthen Seven. But movement, wise or not, created disorder, and disorder led to opportunities.

"Sir, Red Squadron has been ordered away from the fight to accompany a shuttle down to the surface." Ren, then. His pilots would not have taken orders from anyone else.

One squadron of TIE fighters would not make a difference at this point. "Order them to return to the fight once their shuttle has landed." Whether or not Kylo Ren would allow them to leave him was another matter, and one that he could concern himself with later. For now, there was an entire battle that required his attention.

Were it not for a recent discovery, Varonat would hold little interest for the First Order. A steaming jungle planet with only a small population well off the important trade routes, it was one of the thousand backwater Outer Rim worlds whose recent acceptance into the Republic had come with few of the usual benefits of memberhood. And had it not been discovered that a native species of berry could be used in place of tibanna gas, the First Order likely never would have attacked. However, with Bespin under Republic rule and an military whose need for tibanna gas grew exponentially to power an ever-growing number of blasters and laser cannons, such a jewel could not be left untouched.

Hux allowed himself the slightest hint of a smile when the ring of Resistance ships finally broke. Like insects, TIE fighters swarmed inside, bolstering Jeffat's defenses and for the first time, providing the Resistance with a real challenge. With every volley, they came closer to bringing resources, wealth, and the glory of victory to the First Order. For any general, that was reward enough.

However, he could not deny that there was a personal pleasure that came along with it. There was an awareness he took on in battle, a sense that every sense had been sharpened, and there was much to be absorbed. Like music, perfect orchestration was required. And Hux served as conductor, motioning in entrances and exits precisely in time with the battle's rhythms. With every order he gave, every blip indicating a TIE fighter that he caused to move across the display board, he felt the ends of his nerves tingle. An X-wing exploded not a kilometer away from the viewport, and an extra burst of adrenaline surged through him. Absolutely delightful, and not too unlike the descriptions he had read on the effects of glitterstim. Watching the enemy slowly crumble before him only strengthened the high.

And the enemy was crumbling. The opposing general anticipated his every order, strengthening one area when another was weakened and ripe for attack and deflecting fire towards less valuable targets with a few deft rearrangements. But today, their cleverness would not be rewarded. The combined force of Hux and Jeffat's fleets was simply too large to allow a Resistance victory. The opposing general must have realized this, but still they fought on. Bravery, perhaps, or foolishness, but Hux suspected that something greater was at the root. The man or woman was smart, that much was obvious, and a constant, nagging voice in his mind whispered that they had to have a plan, that they had to be guarding something. Even idiocy had its limits. No general would relish the moment of reporting to their superior that they had lost nearly an entire fleet, but none he knew would avoid it by sacrificing their surviving crew.

With that thought, the decision was made for him. "Have the fleet retreat to the edge of the system." One did not need the Force to feel the roll of surprise emanating off his officers, but they were well-trained enough to follow commands without question. Hux turned to the communications officer. "Attempt to reach the general on the other side. Say that we are pulling back and will allow them ten minutes to leave the system. If any Resistance ships remain in the system at the end of that time, we will not hesitate to destroy them."

"Yes, sir."

Convinced that his orders were being followed, Hux left the tactical board for the main viewport. Outside, only the occasional disappearing dots of Resistance ships entering hyperspace disturbed the perfect stillness of the vacuum. "Sir, you have a comm from General Jeffat."

Jeffat was a nuisance best quickly eliminated. Still, some tact was necessary, and some rewards were best saved for a later time. "Tell the general that he may do as he pleases with his own fleet, but that mine will follow my orders and no one else's." After the near-disaster Jeffat's brashness had caused, there would be no true consequences even for insubordination. The First Order was an empire of efficiency and effectiveness, and with its most powerful beings, those values always took precedence over rank.

"He wished to speak to you directly, sir."

Hux whirled around, eyes flaring. "I gave you a command, did I not?"

Communications Officer Jax paled. "Yes, sir. As you wish, sir." With his too-slim frame, the hurried salute he tossed off before hurrying back to his station seemed almost a caricature.

Beyond the viewport, several ships still remained. Hux checked his chrono. Three and a half minutes since he ordered the retreat. Plenty of time to escape, had that truly been the enemy's objective. "Open fire on all remaining Resistance vessels."

One more ship managed to escape into hyperspace as its fellows erupted into minute balls of red-orange flame.

* * *

He had not yet come down from his post-battle endorphin high when he received a communication from the surface. The eight highest-ranking Resistance troops based on the planet were in Ren's custody. Many more, at least forty and perhaps as many as sixty, had been disposed of by quicker means. The First Order had long maintained a policy of not engaging in prisoner exchanges.

The details of the conflict, the woman had reported, could wait until she was back on board the _Leveler_. Hux had understood that as there being more information to be shared once she was out of Kylo Ren's earshot. And so when a general would normally be toasting his victory in the officers' lounge, he instead found himself waiting in his office for Lieutenant Akar to arrive and give her report.

He took the opportunity to review a few of the reports that had begun to pile up on the designated corner of his desk. The logistics of the fleet had always appealed more to him than his peers, but that did not mean he relished every facet of the task. Now, so soon after the thrill of victory, the tales of engine repairs and troop reassignments became even more dull, and he waited impatiently for Akar's arrival.

When he heard the door open, he immediately looked up from his papers. "Lieutenant, come in."

Akar was the perfect example of the superiority of the First Order over the Empire. Physically strong, disciplined, and with a near-perfect memory, she provided an invaluable asset on any battlefield. Nevertheless, the simple matter of her sex would have barred her from Imperial service.

"Sit down." He motioned towards one of the chairs that sat before his desk. "You have a report?"

She sat down across from him. "Yes, sir. We sustained four casualties, two dead and two injured. The injured are in the medical ward and are expected to survive."

"Impressive, considering the Resistance casualties."

"I agree. Upon second inspection, we found that we eliminated forty-eight Resistance fighters. The captured officers are now in the prison decks. We do not believe that any of the forces on the surface managed to escape back to their mothership. Though he will not reveal his reasoning, Lord Ren is confident that there are no more troops on the surface."

Very impressive. Hux leaned back into his seat and crossed one leg over the other. "And is there any reason to doubt Lord Ren's assessment?"

"Not that I can see, sir. His intuitions appear to be very accurate."

"Tell me."

She fell quiet for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "The Resistance had traps set up – they must have known we were coming, because all over the jungle, they'd put up traps. Snipers hiding in the trees, mines covered with leaves and sticks, several others as well. He knew where all of them were, even when I couldn't spot anything off."

"And none of the other troops saw anything that would have alerted them to the presence of these traps?"

"I haven't been able to talk to all of them, but no, none of the ones I've spoken with noticed anything." For the first time since she came into his service three years ago, Akar's voice faltered. "Sir, how is he able to do that?"

That gave him pause. He had not yet considered how to inform the crew of Ren's abilities or even if he wished them to know that magic dwelled alongside their industrial menace. But Akar, though not yet a high-ranking officer, was an exception to nearly every rule. "Lord Ren has abilities beyond what one might expect from a normal human. His senses are more attuned than ours, and he has some abilities to move objects with his mind."

"He's tremendously talented in battle as well."

"Is that why the Resistance's casualties so far outnumbered our own?"

She nodded. "Mostly. One of the troops also fought very well, which brings me to another point I was meaning to mention."

"Which is?"

"He promoted her."

To this point, Hux had been far more relaxed than he would have with any other enlisted officer. Now, he drew back up to sit perfectly, ramrod straight in his chair, and his voice reclaimed the crisp tone required of First Order officers. "He promoted her," he repeated. The lieutenant could not have known it, for he was doing an excellent job of hiding his emotions, but Hux had rarely come closer to wanting to shout while on duty. The man destroyed parts of his flagship on a regular basis. He took his troops and his ships without permission during battle. And now, he'd had the gall to go on promoting his troops, taking Hux's responsibility and privilege of ordering his forces as he would like. The rest, he could turn a blind eye towards. This, though, this complete lack of respect could not be tolerated.

He did not notice if the woman replied. She probably had, for it must have been several seconds at least since he last thought a single rational thought unclouded by anger. He was still trying to formulate a reply when he heard the door again hiss open.

This time, he was not surprised to see Kylo Ren's tall, dark figure framed by the doorway. A part of him wanted to grab for his blaster and reduce the man to a corpse before he could do any more damage. The more reasonable portion knew that would only lead to his own demise, either at the hands of Kylo Ren or the order of the Supreme Leader. No, it was best to remain calm, at least on the surface. "Lord Ren, how considerate of you to join us." He did not attempt to keep the acid from his voice.

"Instead of asking your troops about me, you could ask me directly."

He raised one eyebrow. "And would you tell me?"

It was not difficult to imagine Ren's scowl behind the mask. "Are you afraid of me, General?"

"I am amused by how you act like a child but demand the rest of us to treat you as an equal." He turned towards Akar, pointedly ignoring Ren for a moment. "You are excused. Everything that has transpired here is to be kept in utmost confidence."

"Yes, sir." She saluted him and rose from her seat. Ren blocked her path to the door, and she waited until he shuffled to the side so she could pass.

Even after the door slid shut behind her, Hux kept silent. It took nine seconds for Ren to grow impatient. "Your anger is not as well hidden as you think."

"And yours is even less so."

"My anger makes me powerful. Yours only weakens you." Kylo Ren took the few steps necessary to close the space between them. Not for the first time, Hux had to admire the grace in his step, the power conveyed in the way he moved. "You could do it. You could kill me right now, and I would never do anything more to anger you again."

He sneered. "You assume you're so important to me. No, Ren, I have to disappoint you. You're nowhere near important enough to waste my career on." He grabbed another report off the top of the stack. A prop, of course it was, but he needed one right now. "I have much to do. Perhaps you can find yourself a nice control panel to cut up instead of being a nuisance."

Ren gestured, and Hux's head slammed against the headrest hard enough that his vision swam before him. "I will not be dismissed."

When he tried to move, he found that he was being kept in place by some invisible hand. "Careful, Ren. The Supreme Leader may give you leniency in most things, but he will not endanger his relationship with the military by overlooking the murder of one of his generals."

"I could do far worse things than simply murdering you."

"My point stands." Ren dropped his hand, and when Hux again tried to straighten, his movement was no longer impeded. "If you are so determined to stay, we can discuss your promotion of one of my troops."

"Captain Phasma will serve you well."

"Captain Phasma." He racked his memory, trying to recall any soldier by the name of Phasma.

"You might know her as PHM-329. She's a good soldier, and none of your officers are smart enough to give her the promotion she deserves."

PHM-329. One of the stormtroopers. He had promoted one of the stormtroopers to captain. Hux could hardly think of words for how inappropriate that was, how much it violated the very way things were done in the First Order. The stormtroopers were raised from infancy to be soldiers, and the officers came from the Academy. Thus, order was maintained. A promotion such as this was not merely unheard of; it was unthinkable, a threat to the very foundation of military order.

"She'll serve you well, General. We can discuss this later, when you've found the ability to speak again."

"I don't care if she –" The door shut a millisecond too late to catch the last centimeter of Ren's cape. Hux was left glaring into space, shoulders shaking.


	5. Chapter 5

"You are to be congratulated on your victory, General," said the Supreme Leader. His voice, deep and rich, reverberated against Hux's chest as he spoke. Part of the effect was likely the comm itself, for Snoke insisted on using nothing but the best to communicate with his top military officers, but Hux believed that much of the power came from the Supreme Leader himself. Only a few fortunate individuals had ever seen the man in person, for he preferred to keep his military as the most obvious sign and symbol of his rule. No man, no matter how imposing, could compare with the fear the First Order military invoked.

"Thank you, sir."

"You have been coming to my attention more and more in recent months, General Hux."

He kept his face calm, limiting his reaction to a quirk of the eyebrow. To do anything more would only devalue him in the eyes of the Supreme Leader. Generals, or at least the best ones, were not interested in rumors and hearsay. But anything that reached all the way to Snoke had far more worth than the average rumor.

The slightest ghost of a smile spread across Snoke's face, or perhaps it was a trick of the light. In either case, Hux knew better than to flatter himself to suggest it was in any way due to his actions. "It has been suggested to me that you are one of the most capable commanders in the fleet."

"Thank you, sir. I am pleased to be able to serve the First Order." Capable might have seemed more insult than compliment to the ignorant observer, but few had the ability to orchestrate fleet operations, and any praise from the Supreme Leader was high praise indeed.

"I will be watching your career with great interest. Now, I believe you are familiar with my apprentice, Kylo Ren?"

His apprentice. Interesting. He had known, as everyone in the fleet did by now, that the Supreme Leader took a great interest in the Knights of Ren, but the suggestion that Ren could be his successor… Hux nodded. "He has been stationed on the _Leveler_ for a few months now."

"Tell me what you think of him."

He thought for a moment before responding. "I have only partial knowledge of Ren's actions. He has been very secretive about many of his activities while on board and his movements off-ship. From what I have learned, he's highly effective in combat." Honest, but not so honest as to incite an argument should Snoke take objection to his less-than-complimentary views on Ren. It seemed the perfect compromise.

Snoke's interest, though, would not be so easily sated. "And your personal impression of him?"

If the Supreme Leader wanted information, it was hardly his place to deny it. "I have had very few in-person meetings with Ren. On each of these few occasions, he has been unwilling to compromise and has become unduly angry with my unwillingness to bow to his every whim. Every few days, members of my crew report that Lord Ren has destroyed some piece of equipment in one of his tantrums. We've had to triple our repairs budget since he arrived, and it's cutting into our ability to adequately program the new troops." He had to stop himself before this became a rant, but he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, and he was starting to grow warm just thinking of his difficulties with Ren. Maybe he had misunderstood Snoke when he suggested that Ren was his chosen successor. Perhaps the word apprentice had referred to his use of the Force, or lightsaber training, or one of a thousand other less-likely possibilities. Hux could only hope. He shuddered to think what Ren would reduce the _Leveler_ to should he be given sole authority over it. The damage the man would do with a third of the galaxy under his control was the stuff of nightmares.

"And does Ren's usefulness outweigh these personal failings?"

"I believe they do, sir. I believe they do." He hated himself for his answer, but like everything else he had told the Supreme Leader, it was the truth.

* * *

Few of the First Order troops under Hux's command had been injured in what the Republic media was already calling the Battle of Varonat. This was fortunate for two reasons. First, his medbays and reprogramming centers could easily handle the few that required them. Second, and more importantly, the relative lack of wounded lessened his administrative duties, allowing him to pursue more interesting exploits.

Of particular interest was the interrogation of the captured Resistance officers. The First Order had managed to capture only a couple dozen Resistance or Republic officers in the last decade, for many in their upper ranks would rather kill themselves than fall into enemy hands. Those they had managed to capture suggested that the reason was to not give the Order any information on their organization. They were liars and cowards. Given the First Order's record for interrogating prisoners, Hux could hardly blame them. Some things were far worse than death, and the First Order had gone to great lengths to discover as many of them as possible.

As happened far too often these days, he had Ren to thank for their capture. According to the more detailed report he had received from the newly-minted Captain Phasma, two of the three had attempted to commit suicide, but Ren had stopped the blaster bolts in mid-air before they could do any damage. An interesting talent, certainly, and one that he would have to add to his notes. And now, Ren had taken the initiative on their interrogation. Hux had watched the grainy tapes from the cell earlier this morning. Ren had never picked up any of the instruments, had never laid so much as a finger on the man, but he'd reduced the captain to writhing and screaming within seconds. The information had come later. It had not been what Hux would have asked, for Ren was more interested in the reasoning behind the strike force and, strangely enough, who the commander of the Resistance fleet was. Not nearly as valuable as intelligence on the location of their hidden base or the size of their fleet, but it could have been useful, and they could always continue the interrogation later. Once captives broke, it was not hard to press them for more. After all, as the speakers whispered, just low enough to be picked up by the human ear, but not so loudly as to be consciously perceived, anyone who gave up such secrets would hardly be welcomed back.

Or, they could have continued the interrogation had Ren had more self-control. After reviewing the tapes, Hux did not believe Ren had intended to kill the man. Nothing had seemed out of place seconds beforehand. The man had been screaming, yes, but that was no different from the preceding two hours. When he fell silent, Hux had immediately assumed that his voice had given out. But then he was still for far too long, and it slowly dawned that he was no longer watching a body, but a corpse. Ren had not noticed for several long moments, and he remained with his hand outstretched, still asking questions in that mechanical voice. Hux did not consider himself tender-hearted or particularly empathetic. Still, the tape had a sour taste in his mouth.

The others… the other captives could not be allowed to suffer a similar fate. Not because he cared for their well-being, but because they could not waste such potentially valuable sources of information on anything as volatile as Kylo Ren.

This was his flagship vessel. He did not need permission to enter the prison level. That did not stop Ren from glaring at him - for though the mask covered Ren's face, he knew the man was glaring - when he entered. Hux chose to ignore that. "I have chosen to accompany you during your next session."

"I have no need for supervision, General."

"As you couldn't keep the last one alive long enough to tell us anything useful, apparently, you do." He had come to expect this from their meetings. Ren hardly angered him anymore. Hardly.

"As you wish, General," Ren spat. "I live to serve."

"Indeed." Hux entered the authentication information to open the door. "Shall we?"

* * *

"Tell us the location of your base."

"There… is no –" his voice was cut off by a scream of pure agony. Hux took an involuntary step forward as the woman bucked up against her restraints. He chose not to consider whether it was out of some weak human urge to help or a desire to get a better look.

The noise stopped as suddenly as it had begun. "No lies this time. What is the location of your base?"

The woman, Lieutenant Page, according to what little they'd gotten out of her, stayed silent. Her lips and cheeks twitched, and there was something hollow about her eyes, but had Hux been watching the holocam feed, he would not have seen anything amiss. Compared to Ren's last session, these techniques seemed far gentler. Perhaps Ren was capable of learning. "There's no base." There was a crack as her head slammed back against the metal table, and Hux flinched. "There is no base!" He could not locate the source of the next crack, but now her leg was sitting at a sickeningly wrong angle from the rest of her body.

"This is your last chance. Where is your base?" Ren huffed, a breath between each word.

Page did not speak this time. The seconds stretched as Hux waited for her to give Ren another excuse to hurt her. He had taken his chrono off before he entered this room, for the possession of any sense of time was a luxury prisoners could not be afforded. Still, he would have estimated that several minutes passed before he broke the silence. "She can choose not to say anything. We can wait. Eventually, we'll let her leave." He relished that little bit of hope that shone in her eyes. "We can wait and keep her here and hurt her until she dies. Of old age." Cold glee was the most delicious variety.

Ren paused for several raspy breaths. "As you wish, General."

"You're a monster and a disgrace," Page said. Hux did his best to mask his smile. They had cracked her shell. Now, all that remained was to enjoy the meat beneath. "Your mother's a good woman. She doesn't deserve a monster like you." The lights above flickered ominously. "The general –"

Ren whirled around, hand outstretched, and she choked on her words. Page clawed at her restraints in a desperate attempt to free herself, but the durasteel was too strong for her. "Ren, release her." He couldn't have another officer die. "Ren!" He tried to step forward, but found himself frozen still. "Ren!"

Once the woman went still, eyes vacant, Ren stormed away. His grip on Hux finally relaxed long after he left the detention center.

* * *

 **A/N:** I probably won't be able to keep with a strict weekly updating schedule going forward. Please know that I have no intention of discontinuing this story. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

He sent the body to the incinerator minutes after Ren released his mental grip. Procedure called for an autopsy, but in this case, Hux saw no need for one. They would find nothing that he could not already file in his report.

In some regards, Hux supposed, they were lucky Ren had not snapped before today. Troops as highly trained as those utilized by the First Order did not come cheaply, and it took time and funds they did not have to replace even one. He shook his head in disgust. He should not have to go through this mental exercise. Be grateful Ren hadn't killed one of his crew in a temper tantrum? Ridiculous. What mattered now was that an invaluable source of information, one of the most promising that the First Order had captured in decades, was dead due to that man-child.

Hux tapped a code into his comlink. "Tellers."

"Yes, sir."

"Contact the detention center on Level Seventeen and inform them that Lord Ren is not to be allowed access to their prisoner under any circumstances."

"Should I contact the detention center on Level Twenty-nine as well?" she asked.

Her thoroughness never failed to impress. "No, Tellers, that won't be necessary. I believe Lord Ren has seen to that himself."

"Very good, sir." He heard confusion in her voice, but Tellers was too disciplined to ask for further details. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes. Impress upon them that nay failure on their part, no matter how insistent or convincing Ren may be, risks my utmost displeasure." They would be able to fill in the details of the threat themselves. No reason to spell it out for them. He could hear the scratch of pen on flimsy as Tellers took down notes. It was always good to know that the details of his orders would get across. He waited until the noise stopped before continuing, "If he does attempt entry, tell them to inform me directly." Hux closed the line as soon as he finished his sentence. Tellers was competent; unlike certain others aboard this ship, she did not require constant and direct supervision.

He had already lot most of a day to Ren, and there was much to be done before night came. The questions that lurked at the back of his mind – his mother? The general? – as fascinating as they were, would have to wait for another time.

* * *

Ren had been too busy sulking these last few days to be any real nuisance. The knight spent all his time in his quarters. For once, Ren had not been bothering to jam the holocams in the corridors outside, so Hux could confirm that he was still there. Nobody knew quite what he did in there. On occasion, he would request that food or drink be brought to him, but the caloric intake from what little he asked for should not have been enough to feed a grown man of his size. The rooms were soundproofed, and nobody wanted to know what kind of fits he could be having in there, how much damage the man could have caused over the last week.

In any case, Hux did not feel inclined to give much thought to Ren's current state. He had repairs to oversee and supply shipments to coordinate. Replacements for lost troops should have already arrived, but the higher-ups kept delaying, saying that the personnel he required, particularly the laborers and engineers that would get his fleet back into good order, were needed more urgently somewhere else. Every afternoon now, it seemed, was spent arguing with one bureaucrat or another, trying to secure resources that should already have been made available to him. The constant failures had manifested themselves in an ever-present headache centered just behind his right eye, but Hux would not be deterred. Come the next battle, any residual faults or deficiencies in his troops or the fleet would be blamed on him, no matter which bureaucrat or paper-pusher was truly to blame. Every misstep threatened catastrophe both for his fleet and his career. And so the comm calls and holocam conferences continued, and the headache worsened, and the results never changed.

He needed sleep, but that could wait. Every night, he found himself drinking a fifth, sixth, perhaps even seventh cup of caf as he reviewed the interrogation recordings for the day. With Ren now safely removed from the interrogations, progress was slow, and he toyed more than once with the idea of allowing the knight access to the prisoners to speed up the process. However, whenever that idea came to mind, it was quickly dismissed. Hux could now be reasonably certain that his prisoners would still be alive at the end of their sessions. Add Ren to the equation, and that safety net disappeared.

Blast that man. He couldn't stop thinking about what Lieutenant Page had said to him. Her words had been meant to make Ren ashamed, and if Hux's theory was correct, then from the Resistance's point of view, he should be ashamed indeed. What kind of man abandoned an order his family had in large part created in favor of one sworn to destroy it? True, if that order was as ineffective and plagued with corruption as the New Republic, Hux could see the appeal. In those circumstances, he could even admire such a choice.

He had no time to waste on Ren, but the temptation was too strong. Even a general had to yield at one point or another.

* * *

"Since you're so loathe to discuss your pitiful Resistance, why don't we discuss Lord Ren instead?" This chamber was nearly identical to the last one. They possessed the same matte black walls and ceiling, the same meshed floor to allow the efficient removal of bodily fluids, the same stark, glaring overhead lighting. Right down to the Resistance officer strapped down to the table in the center, this chamber was nearly indistinguishable from the last.

The Bith captain's breath was punctuated by short, high-pitched whistles, a sure sign of exhaustion. "I'm not going to tell you anything."

Hux begged to differ. That the alien was speaking at all showed that his breaking was not far away. "Give him another jolt." A shock rocked through the man, who spasmed within the confines of his bonds as Hux watched, expressionless. "I'll ask again. What do you know of Lord Ren?"

Charred skin marked the areas around the durasteel straps, and the room reeked of burnt flesh. Though most humans thought the acrid smell at best unpleasant and often even nauseating, Hux had found that it hardly bothered him. What that indicated, he chose not to consider. He did worry, though, that he might be pushing the prisoner too far. Hux knew little about Bith anatomy, but from the prisoner's nearly translucent salmon skin, he suspected that they might be more delicate than humans. He refused to lose the officer under interrogation. Not for any weak, moral reason, for Captain Jarves deserved nothing better than death for his actions against the First Order, but he would not become like Ren. Hux would remain in control of himself and this interrogation. What besides their willpower separated them from animals?

A few more of those whistling, wheezing breaths passed. "I don't know anything."

"We can tell when you're lying. Tell me." He followed his order with another jolt. They would move on to the nerve poison soon if Jarves continued to resist.

"I don't know."

"We can keep you here, keep hurting you, for as long as is necessary. Information on Lord Ren is of no importance to your Resistance or New Republic. You're bringing all this pain on yourself for no reason. Again." This time, the shock was joined by a bit of the nerve poison. It had gone through years of rigorous testing on humans to prove that it was incredibly painful but had few lasting effects. Hux was not aware of any such testing on Bith. Excellent. Scientific discovery was always a noble goal.

Bith screamed in an octave beyond what even human females could reach. Hux resisted the urge to clasp his hands over his ears. "I'll tell you –" he choked on a sob. "I'll tell you anything. Please – please just make it stop."

Hux could not help the smile that twitched at the edges of his lips. He took a step in, closing much of the remaining gap between him and the prisoner. "Tell me everything."

* * *

At first, his new knowledge seemed the perfect weapon to stow away in his arsenal for later use. After a few hours, however, the opportunity to solve some of his more immediate problems won out.

He knocked twice. Hux didn't expect an answer, but he had been raised too well to enter an officer's private quarters – even if the particular individual wasn't technically an officer – without knocking first. Next came the required thirty seconds of waiting. As he expected, there was no reply. "Ren, I wish to speak with you." There was no use in announcing who he was. Hux had no doubt that the knight knew exactly who was outside and, like the petulant child he was, still refused to open the door.

Then he had no choice. "Stop being a child, Solo."

The door snapped open immediately, and before he could blink, Ren's mask-covered face was centimeters away from his. "What did you say to me?" he growled more than spoke. The man loomed over him, making the most of his small height advantage.

Hux snorted, refusing to be cowed by Ren's display. Typical. "Are you going to invite me in?"

When Ren did not reply, he edged his way into the room. The blueprints of these chambers were nearly identical to his own. The designers of the _Leveler_ had included three sets of general's chambers. One stood empty, ready for any high-ranking officials that might have reason to stay on board overnight. Hux, naturally, had another, the one closest to the bridge. Before he had realized what a nightmare Ren would be to have around, he had set aside the third for the knight. Hux had inspected all three before making his decision on which to settle himself into, and he recalled that the unobstructed view of the cosmos from the viewport of this suite was particularly lovely. Had it been those extra few meters closer to the bridge, he almost certainly would have chosen it for himself.

Now that Ren had been occupying them for months, they were hardly recognizable. True, here and there, the clean, sharp angles and long, broad planes that had always been a staple of Neo-Imperial architecture shone through, but more often than not, they were buried under a skin of lightsaber burn marks. Ren had apparently not felt it necessary to send his dirty dishes away when the droids came by to deliver his meals, for every surface was piled with plates and cutlery still dirtied with half-eaten meals. The contrast with his own neatly-maintained living quarters could hardly be more drastic."I love what you've done with the place," he remarked.

"You have no right to be here."

"The ship is under my command, and I requested to speak with you. It was entirely your decision to open the door."

"I want you out." Such a shame he had to work with this man. He wouldn't claim to be an expert on the mystic, but surely the Force could have chosen a more mature individual to grace with its powers?

"And I want you to do something useful for the First Order."

He could feel the glare through Ren's mask. "Be careful not to push me too far, General."

"I wouldn't dream of it. I'm sure you'll be more than willing to contact the correct individuals in command to get this ship back in working order, Solo," he said, practically spitting the last word. He wished, for a moment, that Ren had chosen to remove his mask, that he could see the emotions playing out on his face in the silence that followed. It may not have been necessary to his work, but Hux was certain it made for an interesting show.


	7. Chapter 7

Forty-five seconds. It had taken Ren only forty-five seconds to reach the officer in charge of the engineering units, and less than two minutes later, they had their forces. Hux was livid. Yes, he had known that this would be the outcome, and it certainly benefited the fleet, but that a Knight of Ren, a warrior-monk with no responsibility for the upkeep of the fleet, had better access to the necessary channels than a bloody general pushed him over the edge.

Not that he would make that obvious to anyone else, of course. There were times to express anger; this was not one of them. He would not allow this indignity to destroy his reputation. Hux stood even a little straighter than his usual posture, and his jaw clenched as the pleasant brunette female officer led Ren through the transfer procedure. They would not need all the repair technicians she granted them. Hux had asked for nearly twice as many as he absolutely needed, reasoning that with the other projects going on, command would be unlikely to give even Kylo Ren everything he requested. Rarely had he been so pleased at one of his own mistakes.

"Will that be all today, Lord Ren?" the woman asked. It was nothing more than professional politeness, but something about the way she spoke to Ren rankled with him. True, he would have to admit, nearly everything having to do with Ren bothered him to some degree, but this was something more.

"Yes." He didn't even sign off before powering down the holocomm unit. The atmosphere changed as Ren turned towards him. "So, General, you have your repair units."

"That was very efficient of you."

"And is there anything else you require of me?"

He knew better than to believe Kylo Ren was attempting to be helpful, or that the offer was anything approaching genuine, but the key to sabacc was ensuring the other player never saw your full hand. "No, that will be all for today." He didn't have to force the haughty tone.

His eyes widened as strong hands tightened around his throat. The tips of his boots skimmed the floor as he was lifted up by an invisible being. He knew immediately what was happening. Hell, he had been expecting it since the day Ren came on board, for one couldn't leash a wild animal and expect it not to bite. Hux had gone so far as to picture it a time or two, in those last few minutes before he fell asleep when his mind was hardly his own, but the actual sensations were nothing like what he had imagined. His throat constricted further, and his head, behind his eyes, even his ears screamed at the pressure growing within them. He could no longer feel his toes or the tips of his fingers, and Hux knew that it would not be long before the loss of sensation spread up his arms and legs.

If Ren wanted him to be afraid, the man was going to be disappointed. Hux called upon every bit of focus he had left to glare at Ren. He refused to give the knight any indication of how his body urged to claw the invisible fingers away from his throat or attempt to scramble away.

"I don't need a physical reaction to know that, General." Ren hid his face behind the mask, but his rage was clear. With only the slightest move of his hand, Ren lifted him another several centimeters, and for the first time, Hux wondered if Ren might actually kill him. This narrowing of vision, the fogginess of the world around him… was this what death felt like? "You will never refer to me by that name again." He hardly heard the words, and certainly didn't take the time to comprehend them.

But then the grip on his throat relaxed, and the durasteel floor rang as he was dumped onto it. White replaced his vision as his back and forearm screamed from the impact, and when his eyes cleared, he saw Lord Ren above him. From this vantage point, he loomed even larger than usual. Shoulders easily twice as broad as Hux's, nearly monstrous height, and that mask conjured a creature more at home in nightmares than the _Leveler._ Hux had never been one to shirk back in the face of danger. "I will call you whatever is in the First Order's best interests." His throat burned, but to rub the tender flesh now would be to show weakness.

"It would be against the Order's interests to lose one of its top generals." Even though he could fling Hux against the room with nothing but a thought, Ren could not maintain control for long. It was a shame, really, that such powers had been bestowed on someone without the discipline to fully exploit them.

"Careful, Ren," Hux warned as he sat up. He doubted he could stand yet, but even this small shift in position pushed the dynamic in the room further into his favor. "Pettiness and threats may have gotten you this far, but the Supreme Leader does not take recklessness lightly. You're more easily replaced than you may think."

"And your fleet is not as necessary as you may believe it to be."

"I'm certain," he spat back. A bluff, but a good one. He kept his thoughts stifled, hoping it would be enough to keep Ren out of his mind.

Ren studied him for a long moment, and perhaps he had pressed too far, for the man's hand began to rise, his thumb and forefinger pressed together. But Ren must have thought better of it, for his hand dropped, and with a swish of his robes, he stalked out of the communications chamber. Off to terrorize the rest of the crew, then. Good riddance.

He raised his fingers to his neck, gingerly examining the area. Even the lightest prods made him wince, but he found nothing amiss. Peeling up the sleeve of his uniform revealed an already purple-black bruise, and he expected that the skin over his tailbone told a similar story. He should make a point of getting to the med bay within the next few days, but nothing required immediate medical attention. None of his injuries should be visible under his dress uniform, making dressings or cosmetics unnecessary. Excellent. He had far more important matters to attend to.

* * *

Mesmerizing, truly mesmerizing. White armor gleamed, stark against the polished black of the floor and walls. Dozens of rows of troops marched in perfect synchrony, as much art as pure practicality. They passed by him in waves, each indistinguishable from the last. Such displays of discipline ought to comprise any officer's dreams. Stunning. He had to concede that Phasma, no matter how she had attained her new position, was doing an excellent job. Hux watched their feet carefully, but he did not notice a single misstep during the stormtroopers' drills. Out of four hundred men, many of them fresh out of the First Order's training facilities, that was unheard of. Not the best measure of Phasma's effectiveness – he would have to wait until their first battle for that – but it suggested excellent results.

When the drills finished, he turned to the woman standing next to him. "Their discipline is impressive."

She bowed her head slightly. "Thank you, sir." Would he ever become accustomed to addressing a trooper in full armor as he would an officer? For Phasma, despite nudging from her peers, refused to surrender her Stormtrooper armor. From the reports that had made their way across his desk, she had declared that if she was going to be sent into battle along with her troops, she was going to be on the front lines with them. It was only natural, she had then argued, to want the same protection the average trooper enjoyed.

Despite the scoffing of the other officers, Hux could understand the appeal. As a young man, cocky on his first holiday at home during his time the Academy, he had once suggested to his father that similar armor be given to officers in battle situations. The talking-to he had received in reply had sent that overconfidence running, tail in between its legs, and it had not returned. Armor, he had been told, separated the officers from the troops, made them visually distinguishable. No matter what the power relationships were, eight faceless men might develop some degree of camaraderie, but add a face, and that person would always be an outsider. And an outsider's perspective absolutely had to be maintained when one might have to order the others to their deaths. But Phasma, Phasma was something different. Officer by rank, but a stormtrooper in spirit. Whether her armor befitted her unique position made for an interesting problem perhaps better suited for philosophers than generals. Unfortunately, he would have to be the one to make the final decision.

He remained silent as the last of the troopers filed out of the room, maintaining their ranks until they were out of eyesight. Impressive indeed. Hux again turned to the captain. "What else do you have to attend to today?" The question was sincere. Though he made a point of memorizing the daily schedules of most of his top officers, with the fleet in desperate need of repairs, he had not yet had time to commit that of his newest captain to memory.

"I have rounds to make until nineteen hundred hours, sir."

Nineteen hundred hours. Yes, that should work. "I would be honored if you would stop by my office afterwards for a drink." If the circumstances permitted, an informed decision was always preferable to an uninformed one.

"Thank you, sir."

"I look forward to it."

* * *

Ten minutes after nineteen hundred hours, a knock came on his outer office door. Normally, Hux was insistent on punctuality, but in this case, he would have been disappointed if the woman managed to arrive on time. He would not have his officers slipping away from their duties early to socialize. "Sir, it's –"

"Yes, I know, Rackler. Let her in." The door slid open, and Phasma, still in her full armor, stepped inside. "Good evening, Captain."

"Good evening," she repeated automatically. She stood there for a long moment, obviously unsure of what to do.

Hux's lips tightened. He would have to remember that they neglected to program the niceties expected in the upper ranks into the stormtroopers. "Please, do take a seat." Phasma had shown herself capable, but that did not ensure a seamless transition into her new role. A few manners should not be too difficult to pick up along the way. "How did your rounds go?" Surely the troops talked like this among themselves? Hux thought for a moment. Yes, he remembered times spent discussing the sports broadcasts they occasionally received with his first command. He personally couldn't have cared less which teams would advance to the next round in the Galactic Cup, but limmie had served to bond the troops together.

"Well. There were only a few minor corrections that needed to be made."As Phasma spoke, he reached into his drawer to retrieve the scotch he kept on hand. He began to pour the brown-gold liquid into the two tumblers he had set out earlier.

"Excellent. I've been very impressed with the discipline of the troops since your promotion."

"Thank you, sir." Only when he passed her a glass did she finally remove her helmet. Hux had not seen the woman's face before. He would guess she was five to ten years older than him, with blonde hair kept even shorter than regulation length. She brought the drink to her lips and finished it in two gulps. Yes, some better manners certainly needed to be fostered here. "I'm glad that you approve."

He took a sip of his own scotch, letting the flavors dance across his palate for a moment before he swallowed. This variety, very rare and very expensive, was wasted if not enjoyed by a connoisseur. Perhaps that was too much to hope for Phasma, but one's goals had to be lofty if one was to achieve anything at all, yes?

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to congratulate you in person on your promotion. I heard from Lord Ren that your actions during the battle were highly commendable."

"Thank you, sir. Lord Ren deserves much of the credit for that battle himself, sir." Unlike with many of the other officers, there was no change in her body language when she spoke of Ren. He sensed no distaste in her voice, and even her eyes remained neutral. Interesting. An officer who did not look down on Ren's place within the hierarchy could prove invaluable.

But that was not the matter at hand. "So I've been told." If that was how Phasma wanted to direct the conversation, he could not avoid the matter any longer. He refused to spend what could otherwise be a rather pleasant evening discussing Kylo Ren. "I have been meaning to discuss your choice of attire with you." He had put quite a bit of thought into how to bring up the subject, and a neutral route had seemed the best.

"I think it helps with morale among the troops." She had finally lost the sir. Good. He didn't want this conversation to be any more uncomfortably formal than it had to be.

He raised an eyebrow. "They see in you a possibility for their own advancement?"

"No, sir. I believe it makes them understand that I do realize what's best for them."

The unspoken assumption there, of course, was that the regular officers didn't. And to be fair, the troops' wellbeing was hardly on the forefront of any good officer's mind. However, that did not mean it was an acceptable viewpoint. "And what of the other officers?"

Phasma quieted for a moment. Good, any officer should know dangerous territory when they saw it. He took the opportunity to refill her glass. Hopefully, she wouldn't drink this one so quickly. "What of them?" she replied.

"Do they understand what is best for the troops?"

She considered her reply for a few seconds before replying. "In a different way, sir."

"Are there any other reasons that I should allow you to continue to wear stormtrooper armor?"

"I would rather a Resistance fighter have to do a bit of practice with her weapon before she's able to kill me, sir."

A smile threatened to pull at his lips, but he did not allow the expression to show itself. "I suppose that is a reasonable request. I do believe, though, that we will need to find a way to make yours easily distinguishable from that of the regular troops. I do not want any confusion in that regard."

"Of course, sir." Phasma took a sip of her drink, this time mimicking his actions and allowing it to sit in her mouth for a half-second or so before she swallowed. It would not impress the old Imperial court, but such mannerisms would serve her well in the First Order's military hierarchy. Yes, she would do well. Ren trusted her judgment, after all.

Oh dear, he was taking cues from Ren. Hux shuddered at the thought. If this continued, it would be a miracle if the First Order wasn't in shambles before midnight. Hux reached for the bottle of scotch and poured himself another glass. He was going to need every drop he could get.


	8. Chapter 8

The three workers' orange vac suits clashed against the blacks and greys of the hangar. Had the area been pressurized, he would have heard the constant noise of their welding and bolting the new doors into place. But as the sparks not so much fell as drifted away in all directions, an eerie silence hung over the space.

Vac suits were necessarily confining. The one he had owned as a child – a necessity, given how much time he had spent on board the ships of his father's fleet – was always too large or too small. A child's measurements were always changing, and even though Mother always ordered them a bit big, he would outgrow the new suit practically as soon as it arrived. Now, he had his suit, along with every other garment he wore, perfectly tailored to his exact measurements. It was still uncomfortable. He should have expected that.

Far too aware of the limited range of motion his suit provided, he watched as the mechanic half-walked, half-bounced towards his work site. Carefully, and only after he checked once again that his tether was secure, Hux lifted himself over the guard rail to follow him. The mechanics were still fine-tuning the artificial gravity in this portion of the ship, so he had a much easier time of it than he normally would. That in and of itself was absolutely unacceptable. Since graduating the Academy, he had relaxed his once-vigorous exercise routines to little more than the minimum required. Hux could not recall any other facet of his life in which he'd accepted passable or simply satisfactory. He made a mental note to add another twenty minutes of exercise to his daily routine. Perhaps a few extra minutes could be found early in the mornings.

The mechanic – Carn, perhaps? Another lapse in his high standards, but a mere mechanic's name held little importance for the First Order – gestured towards the area where a few others worked. "This area here took a direct strike." The static-laced voice he heard through the earpiece lagged a heartbeat behind the man's movements. "This entire section of the ship depressurized. We're just getting that back up."

"I can see that." The annoyance would not transfer through the comm unit.

"If they'd hit two meters starboard, they would have knocked out the main life support systems. Five meters, and the entire ship would've gone up. But don't worry, General, we'll have her back in tip-top condition real soon."

He moved a few steps closer to survey the damage. Pitted black and grey scars marred the once-smooth durasteel. Pity it hadn't stayed under Jeffat's command. Hux would be the last to complain about being given extra authority under almost any conditions, but the man could use the visual reminder of what happened when one made reckless decisions. That, of course, assumed that Jeffat still had a command. Hux had heard nothing of the man since the fiasco at Varonat. Assumptions were below a man of his station, but hypotheses based on years of experience were not. Beneath the mask of his vac suit, Hux felt no need to hide his smirk at the thought of what might have befallen Jeffat in recent weeks.

Allowing such emotion to get in the way of one's work made for terrible form. "Do you have an estimated time for completion?"

Cairne, yes, he remembered now, nodded. "Two weeks, sir."

"I want it done in five days." With a crew of forty-eight, the _Ruiner_ was one of the smallest vessels in the fleet, and as such, it was unlikely to impact the outcome of any battles it might participate in. Still, he wanted it returned to perfect condition and back to active duty as quickly as possible.

"I will see what can be done, sir."

"I look forward to your updates. Now, if you'll escort me back to my shuttle, I have many other worksites to inspect today."

* * *

Hux waved Tellers back when she tried to speak to him. Whatever she had to say, it could wait until he had taken off his vac suit. Otherwise, she would have commed him earlier. He pressed his palm to the sensor that allowed him into his office as he undid the clasp on his helmet. When he removed the piece of equipment, he found Kylo Ren seated at his desk. Not at his seat. Mother had always reminded him to be grateful for life's small mercies.

"You're later than I expected, General."

"Are you here to assault me again?" He looked away from Ren to set the helmet on the table he kept next to the door. The man was hardly worthy of his complete attention.

"No, I came for a drink." For what he knew would not be the last time, Hux cursed the mask that hid Ren's features and distorted his voice. Strange as a joke might be from the living, breathing weapon, he could never be certain. "You are in the practice of inviting the high-ranking officers down here, yes?"

"You gave us every indication that you wished to be left alone."

"If I wanted to be alone, why would I be here?"

"Stop wasting my time. What do you want?" he snapped. Hux prided himself on his patience, and he could not recall a time that he had yelled at a subordinate in this office. Technically, he supposed, he still hadn't. Every action Ren took proved yet again that he was far from being under Hux's command.

That impenetrable mask stared back at him, and Ren did not move a millimeter. Perhaps he should have kept his helmet on as well. Gentlemen in the early days of the Old Republic had always sought to fight on a level field. When had that sense of chivalry disappeared? "I said I wanted a drink, General. I assumed someone in your position would know how to listen."

So complete was the silence in the room that Hux could make out his own heartbeat, hear the low, steady thrum of the engines. Hux shook his head. "You seem to have made yourself comfortable. I'm sure you can find the scotch yourself. Surely your Force is good for something other than smashing up my flagship?"

"I meant that I hoped you would join me. Take off your vac suit, General. Sit down." Ren leaned back in his chair, the chair squeaking with his weight. He would have to put in a work order to have that fixed. Hux refused to have something squeaking while he was trying to work.

He should really take off his vac suit. A part of him wanted to ask Ren to wait outside, but that was hardly an option. There was no real modesty issue, for he wore his uniform underneath the suit. He would be left without shoes, yes, but his boots waited for him by the door, precisely where he left them this afternoon. But removing the suit meant making himself more vulnerable. Any protection it offered existed only in his mind, but it was also the only protection from Ren he had. His station failed to impress the knight. Physically, he was hardly a match for that mountain of a man. And when it came to wits, the area where Hux had always excelled, they ended in a draw, both having drawn blood. Still, Ren had proven himself smart, and any intelligent predator knew hesitation as a sign of weakness. He changed as quickly as he could without arousing suspicion. Only after he buckled his boots and finger-combed his hair back into place did he turn back to Ren.

"I should have known you'd be the sort to wear their dress uniform under their vac suit."

Hux did his best to keep his expression neutral. "And what would you have an officer wear?"

"I believe most wear something a bit more comfortable. I'm surprised you didn't keep that coat on underneath."

Something felt off about this. Natural, unforced, everything that his interactions with Ren were not. Hux sat down, watching for any sign of a threat. The bruises on his forearm and back had not yet fully healed, and after a day spent almost entirely on his feet, both begged for the soothing bacta gel he had been rubbing on them each night. He would not relish another round of the same. Keeping one eye on Ren, he grabbed two tumblers. Next, he reached for the scotch. Hux had been certain Ren would retrieve it, take full advantage of the opportunity to flaunt his powers. Who would have guessed that the man knew better than to go through an officer's desk. Perhaps someone along the way had bothered to teach him some manners.

"Thank you for the offer, General, but I brought something for us to share." From some pocket deep within his robes, Ren pulled out a bottle of amber liquid. He offered it to Hux, who took it.

Hux studied the bottle for a moment before removing the stopper and taking a whiff. Familiar, but not one he'd had the chance to enjoy in quite a while. "Corellian?"

"I've always liked the good stuff." Of course. Wouldn't any son of Han Solo enjoy a good glass of Corellian brandy?

He poured two generous glasses and pushed one towards Ren. "Should I call for a straw for you to drink through?" he sneered.

"That won't be necessary." Ren lifted off his helmet, setting it onto his desk with a dull metallic _thud_. He had studied childhood holos of Ben Solo that Intelligence had on file, but Hux had not expected such a chance for comparison. Advancing from age twelve to twenty-five or so did tend to change one's features, but Kylo Ren had little luck in that regard. The ears still stuck out perpendicular to the rest of his face, and he had failed to fully grow into them. His father's nose, which Hux had to admit contributed quite a bit to Han Solo's rugged handsomeness, looked too large and out of place on Ren. And yet, he could not bring himself to look away. Curiosity, certainly, and nothing more. The unknown always held at least some appeal.

Hux raised his glass to his lips. "Should I worry that this is poisoned?"

Ren took a sip from his own tumbler. "If I were going to kill you, General, I could find far faster and less expensive methods."

"I would be disappointed if you couldn't." The liquid was warm on his tongue, and the heat spread down his throat and into his stomach as he swallowed. The good stuff indeed. As it should be, for this variety cost as much as the average worker made in a week. He waited another moment before he took another sip, for he did not want it to be gone so soon.

"Is Captain Phasma doing well?"

An interesting approach. "It would appear so. Of course, we won't really know until she has the opportunity to lead our troops into battle."

"I've seen her in action. She'll do well."

"I spoke to her just a few nights ago about her progress. She drills better than nearly all the other officers, and I suspect she'll continue to get better."

"Yes, I heard about your little chat. Interesting that you should invite all the officers besides me into your confidence."

Hux set down his tumbler with enough force that a drop or two leapt out of the glass and onto the surface of his desk. "You made very clear from the moment you stepped on board that you wanted nothing to do with me or the other officers. You can hardly be upset when you were treated differently after you demanded every special treatment."

"You're not very good at hiding how threatened you are by me."

"Do you wanted to be treated as one of my subordinates?"

Ren grinned, wide and lazy. Hux hated that the combination was so attractive. The man had the Force; he did not need another weapon. "I think you should focus on your brandy. It's too expensive to waste like that."

How dare the man point out a drop or two of lost brandy when he destroyed portion of Hux's ship almost weekly in one of his fits. "Careful, Ren." Don't bait a caged animal if you aren't sure it's locked in, his father had once told him. It would not surprise him if parents in the Republic had less helpful advice to give.


	9. Chapter 9

Ren's lips twitched upwards into what could almost be mistaken for a smile. A hand reached towards him, and Hux struggled to keep his features neutral as an invisible force pressed hard against the bruises on his back. "No, General," Ren snarled "I think it is you who should be careful."

"I wonder what Leader Snoke thinks of your lack of discipline," Hux mused. The pressure on his bruises grew, but he paid it no mind. Children generally ceased having temper tantrums when they no longer garnered a response from the adults around them. "I imagine you could make a formidable opponent if you had better control of your emotions."

"The Supreme Leader is wiser than you or I could ever hope to be. It's not our place to question him."

Hux had to stifle a snort at Ren's reaction. Immediate, heartfelt, and oh so very naïve. Had he been a child, it might have been endearing, but on a grown man, such blind loyalty could only be a liability. Ren might wield the powers of the ancient Sith, but without the cunning that they had employed, mastery of the Force amounted to little more than a few conjurer's tricks. Loyalty, though, could be a weapon in and of itself, though its bearer held a double-edged sword. Push too far, and those same qualities that had made such a loyal servant could cause them to turn against you. But that was for Snoke to worry about. "I agree," Hux replied, his voice smooth as synthsilk. "To see any use or value in you, the Supreme Leader must be very wise indeed."

Kylo glared at him. "You put too much faith in your fleet."

Hux had seen enough battles to recognize a desperate last offensive when he saw one. "As opposed to what? Magic tricks? That gut feeling you call intuition?" At that Ren was silent, sullen. Oh, excellent, he had gone back to brooding. This was exactly how Hux wanted to spend his evening after a long day at the work sites.

Still, baiting Ren did have its enjoyable elements. "With my other officers, I generally ask about their families." He paused, allowing Ren the opportunity for a response he knew would not be forthcoming. "Somehow," Hux continued, leaning back in his seat, "I think you might wish to supply a different topic of conversation." He hardly managed to finish his sentence before a roar surrounded him. The almost musical tones of glass shattering joined the sounds of Ren's boots stomping out of the room. He heard the lightsaber ignite in the other chamber. Oh good, perhaps Ren would manage to contain his anger to the outer office. He would hate for the important files in here to be ruined. The droids would already have enough work to do cleaning up the brandy that had been splashed all over his desk. He found an unsullied pad of flimsy and made a note to fix the squeaking chair while they were at it. There was no reason they couldn't get a few things done at once.

Outside, he could still hear the low hum of Ren's lightsaber, though he thought it sounded farther away now. With any luck, Tellers had found somewhere to hide. It would be a pity if he had to replace one of his top aides.

Only one thing left to worry about, then. Hux studied the mask that still sat on the desk before him for a long moment, debating what should be done with the offending piece of machinery. Ren didn't need it. Hux had suspected that since the moment he saw it, but tonight's encounter proved it was no more than an accessory. Real power spoke with action and might, not flamboyant displays. He would be doing Ren a favor if he tossed it into the trash compactor.

But then again, it would be terrible manners of him to not return the item. Hux smiled as he reached into his desk for his good stationery.

 _Lord Ren,_

 _Thank you for coming by for a drink this evening. I had a marvelous time, and I hope you did as well. I greatly appreciated the opportunity to get to know you better. Thank you again for the lovely evening, and I hope we can meet again soon._

 _Kindest wishes,_

 _B. Hux_

He had always thought thank you notes impractical, nothing more than false sentiments expressed in such a way that the receiver could not hear the lies beneath. But, Hux reflected, looking over his handiwork, in the right hands, even the most impractical customs could become very useful indeed.

* * *

It took six days for the major repairs to be completed. He doubted the minor repairs would ever truly be finished. After the pressing urgency of the most important repairs, the smaller items – blast marks on the walls, limited environmental controls, and the like – hardly seemed to matter to most of the repair crews. Interestingly enough, their living quarters always managed to be among the first repairs. Hux would have pressured their supervisors into forcing long hours until the repairs were complete, but now that he would no longer be commanding the _Ruiner_ , he saw little need.

The news that several ships would be taken from his command marked the first time that Hux had ever suffered something akin to a demotion. He suspected Kylo Ren was behind it. Two days after their last meeting, he had received orders that the _Ruiner,_ the _Lifehound,_ and three smaller ships were to report back to the Unknown Regions to take place in a training operation. Had the decision been anything less than spur of the moment, Hux would have been consulted. At least until Ren arrived aboard the _Leveler,_ he had been the rising star of the First Order Navy. Before Ren tarnished his reputation, the Supreme Leader himself had personally called to congratulate him on a victory. And now? Though the orders had not specifically said that the ships were to be removed from his command forever, it also had not mentioned a date they would be returned. Training operations, almost by definition, came with deadlines for completion.

A child, an absolute child. Hux could not see why the Supreme Leader put so much faith in him. Take nearly fifteen percent of an accomplished general's fleet because of a petty rivalry? Disgraceful. Ren should have been sent to the Academy. The drill sergeants would have ground his face into the floor within minutes. Perhaps they would have been able to turn out a decent human being. Hux chose not to believe in miracles, but maybe it was possible.

The First Order promoted some degree of rivalry and revenge-seeking. With a galaxy full of promising candidates, having them knock down one another allowed the best to rise to the top. Still, infighting was to be done man to man. Going above the other's head would forever sully an officer's name. And yet Ren would escape without consequence, just as he always did. The knight, it seemed, believed Hux needed yet another reminder that he operated on a completely different level than the strict military structure the general had come to love.

Seven days since he'd been given the news, a full week, and Ren still hadn't dared to show his face on the bridge. If Hux were to be honest with himself, he would have to accept that it was likely a good thing. As tempting as the thought of ripping into Ren in front of an audience may be, he would not win if the skirmish came to blows. And considering how volatile Ren had proven himself time after time, that seemed not an unlikely outcome. Still, he would relish such an opportunity.

Hux's hand curled into a fist behind his back, and he belatedly realized that he hadn't heard a word of what Captain Jassup had been saying. "They're waiting for permission to launch, sir."

"Yes, of course," he agreed. Whatever the mission might be, it could not be too far outside his earlier directives. Jassup would have stopped such actions long before they reached him. And in any case, a mind known to wander while on the bridge would bring far greater consequences in the long term than an ill-advised mission or two. Hux would not have his standing lowered any more than it already had been.

"Very good, sir." She saluted and returned to her station.

With the officer gone, Hux turned back towards the viewport. A moment or two spent staring at the stars always served to clear his mind. While daydreaming was looked down upon, and rightly so, an officer was to be praised for the occasional indulgence in self-reflection. Sifting through the heaps of data, observations, and intuitions form the last few days, Hux came to a single, simple conclusion. He should be grateful for Ren's recent absence. Now, he could finally return to his real duties. Content, he turned back to the bridge, ready for whatever might come his way.


	10. Chapter 10

The headaches had returned in full force these past few weeks. A relic of his days at military school, as a child, they had limited him to his bed for hour, sometimes days, at a time. A schoolboy could afford the luxury of time away from his book; such a move from a general could prove disastrous. One of these days, he would make a point of seeing a med droid about them, ask for a preventative solution to be prescribed. For now, a strong cup of caf and a few chewable pain relief tablets would have to be enough. Hux resisted the urge to down the rest of the bottle. He could lie down after he completed the inspections. Tellers was more than capable of managing the monthly supplies paperwork by herself.

"Sir, there's a shuttle requesting permission to board." Under any other circumstances, he would not have considered the officer's voice loud, but right now, it made his head scream in pain. Yes, a medbay visit was most certainly in order.

"Do they have the appropriate clearances?" he replied, doing his best to keep the annoyance out of his voice. At least a dozen shuttles arrived on and departed the _Leveler_ each day. Such mundane matters did not require a general's permission, and his crew knew better than to bother him with trivial matters.

The man glanced back at his terminal screen. "They have clearances, but they are not up to date, sir. They're from before the recent update."

"And when did this update occur?"

"Four days ago, sir."

Hux considered the situation for a moment. "Ask them for a new code. If they cannot provide one, do not allow them to dock on the _Finalizer_. Divert them to the _Ringleader_ and have them undergo a complete inspection of the shuttle and background checks on the individuals on board."

"Yes, sir." Hux watched as the man relayed his orders. He felt that this was some type of test, and he could only hope that he had just passed. Lieutenant Caia looked up from his terminal. "They've provided a current code, sir."

"Excellent. What docking bay did you direct them to?"

"Hangar 5G."

"Tellers, if anyone has any need for me, I will be available by comlink. Otherwise, you are to deal with any issues that may arise. I want the bridge in nothing less than perfect condition when I return."" With one last glance around the bridge to ensure that everything was as it should be, he left for Hangar 5G. If his suspicions were correct, there was no place for errors now.

* * *

An inspection. It had to be. Hux silently seethed. He would kill Ren the next time he saw him. It did not matter that Hux had never personally killed anyone, or that the man would surely beat him in any physical fight. Kylo Ren would die, and it would be Hux who killed him. They did not conduct unannounced inspections of generals' flagships except with warning or under suspicion of gross misconduct. It simply wasn't done. Once one achieved the rank of general, they were largely free to do as they pleased on their own flagships. They had proven to the elites that they possessed the good judgment necessary to run their ships, often with little regard for formal procedures. And as long as no reports of misconduct were filed, Command looked the other way. It was difficult to guess who might have been responsible for such a report.

Worse yet, he had been confined to his office until the inspection was complete. He had protested the move, for he was needed on the bridge in case of an emergency, but First Lieutenant Caplaw, as he had introduced himself, refused to yield. Unable to affect the outcome in any way, Hux could only pace in the cramped space and imagine the worst. The bridge would be in shambles when the inspectors arrived. The security teams would fail to ask for the appropriate clearances before allowing them to access restricted areas. Some piece of equipment Ren had destroyed would be left untouched in the center of a hallway for the inspector to stumble upon. And at each point, he would note the infractions down on that pad of flimsi to take back to Command, to tell them how incompetent, how sub-par the general that had once been their golden child truly was.

He forced himself to stop, to unclench his fists and sit down at his desk. They would not find anything amiss. Hux could be sure of that. He had long run one of, if not the, most organized and best-maintained ship in the fleet. The one true kink in the system could not ruin this for him, for Ren had, conveniently enough, made himself scarce these last few days. Whether he was off on some mission or holed up in his chambers, Hux did not know. Should Ren have been the one who called for this inspection in the first place, he should pray that Hux never found out.

Ren was not worthy of the time he spent thinking about him. He had far more important matters to attend to. The supply forms, of course, then the reading on the other forces that he needed to catch up on, and the personnel files could use some revision as well. He tried to focus, but the words on his datapad swam into a jumbled sea of foreign characters. Hux rubbed at his temples, trying to smother that never-ending headache, and pushed forwards. He would finish his tasks. Ren's little stunt would do nothing to quell his ambitions.

 _Chirp._ He answered his comlink halfway through the first ring. "Hux."

Only on rare occasions had he been so glad to hear Tellers' voice. "The inspector is ready to depart. He said you are allowed leave your office now." Allowed. He was allowed to wander his ship freely now. How very kind of the inspector.

Hux sprang up from his desk and started towards the door. Though it was hardly professional behavior, there was nobody here to see him, and he had been absent from his post for far too long. "Tell me about his visit. I want to know every detail."

"Everything seemed well in order," she began. "He started with the hangars. He was very interested in the security protocols we had in place, and though it was difficult to judge his reactions, I believe he was impressed with the level of security you have implemented in those areas of the ship. We then went to the bridge, where he asked several personnel to step away from their stations for quick interviews with –"

"Did they all request that a neighbor cover their console while they were away?" That had long been a favorite trick of First Order inspectors, and he suspected the practice had gone on long before that. Asking someone whose position required constant vigilance to abandon their posts for just a moment seemed innocent enough on the surface, but it could turn a mission to ruin in seconds.

"Yes, they did. I believe he walked away with a very positive impression."

"Excellent."

* * *

He heard nothing for weeks. Had he been a less precise man, more willing to let insults pass, he might have forgotten about the inspection. In hindsight, it had been painless enough: a few hours of time wasted, but his time had long since stopped being his own.

But being who he was, the inspection and its results had never been far from his mind. Surely Command would at some point contact him regarding the matter? They would have to inform him if they were intending on replacing or demoting him. Even if they had no such intentions, one would think they would want to contact him with suggestions. No matter how well-run a ship was, there were always improvements that could be made. Unlike many of the older generals who were too set in their ways for their own good, Hux would happily implement anything to increase efficiency aboard the _Leveler._

Once a month had passed, he had largely given up hope that he would ever receive any word on the results. Though the First Order worked hard to avoid the wasteful spending the Republic poured their precious credits into, some amount of inefficiency was inescapable, even in the military. Particularly in the military, if the theories on military expenditures he had read during what little free time he scrounged for himself during his Academy days were to be believed. If enough credits and man-hours came into play, some would be wasted.

And so, nearly six weeks after Lieutenant Caplaw's visit, it came as a surprise to receive a message from Command requesting that he depart for Morcanth immediately. The order had demanded that he come by shuttle and bring only minimal personnel, which Hux took to be a pilot and two stormtroopers. He tried not to think about what that could mean, but, as happened only on rare occasions, he failed miserably. Were they trying to minimize the chances he would put up a fight after they took away his position? He would never do such a thing, but less committed generals in the past had retained less dignity. Did they plan to save themselves the effort of meeting with him and instead fire on his ship the instant it left hyperspace? It would be an elegant strategy, Hux had to admit. None of the nasty business of convincing one of his own snipers to murder their commanding officer, and he would still be neatly disposed of. The only wasted materiel would be a shuttle and a few troops, both far from irreplaceable.

When one had trained for years to examine all possibilities, every potential outcome, not analyzing became very difficult. He did manage to update the personnel files during the three-day journey, but Hux knew he should have accomplished far more. There was nothing he could do about that now, unfortunately. When the pilot commed to announce their exit from hyperspace, he set down his datapad and made his way to the cabin.

From space, Morcanth did not seem an inviting planet. Thick grey clouds, reminders of the heavy industry and manufacturing that dominated the world's economy, blocked most of the planet's surface from view. In the few areas where the surface did peek through, all that changed was the shade of gray. Contaminated rivers and oceans, forests flattened to accommodate another mine, another factory, none of it made for a beautiful world. But beauty was for tourists and sightseers, not the pragmatic individuals of the First Order. Morcanth would serve its purpose and manufacturing and political center until the time came to abandon it and move on to a more promising world.

Everything disappeared as they passed through a cloud of dense, smoky fog. The instant they landed, Hux was separated from his troops and pilot and sent into a small, almost closet-like room. Two men followed him inside, and they proceeded to strip him down and inspect every inch of his body and clothing. They thought he, of all people, would bring in listening or recording devices into Command's central headquarters? They must be stupider than Hux had thought. He had not suffered such an indignity in years, but he stayed silent through the ordeal.

Once they finished, Hux was escorted down a long hallway. Though he could see little gradient in the floor, he sensed that they were headed down. Considering that they had docked on the ground level, they had to have been well underground by the time the security guards stopped in front of a gleaming white door. "You go in, sir."

Hux pressed his palm to the reader, his heart racing. A few seconds later, the light next to it turned green, and the door opened. He swallowed against the lump in his throat as he stepped inside to find three men waiting for him. "General Hux. thank you for your promptness."

"You're welcome, sir." He kept both his voice and face devoid of any emotion.

"Please, sit down." The man gestured towards a chair, and Hux took it, wary. His weapon had been taken away during the security screening, and though he had only used it twice during his time in the military, he would give anything to have it by his side right now. "I have been very impressed with your abilities," the man, who Hux was certain he had never seen before, began once he was seated. "The results of our recent inspection showed that your _Leveler_ is in very capable hands."

"Thank you, sir."

Hux eyed the room's other two occupants. Both human males in their fifties or early sixties, their uniforms marked them as belonging to the engineering corps. They stayed silent, allowing the third man, taller, and with a booming voice that must once have served him well on the drilling fields, to speak for them. "The results were so good, in fact, that we believe you're perfectly suited to oversee a project we have been working on for quite a while."

Hux struggled to keep his features impassive. Demoted to a mere project manager, and all because of Kylo Ren. His father would roll over in his grave.

"We have been working on a weapon for quite some time now, and the engineers –" he nodded towards his two companions – "believe we are at the stage where construction can begin."

"A weapon, sir?" he asked, his interest finally piqued.

He nodded. "Be aware, General, that until you are aboard your new vessel, you are not to speak a word of this to anyone."

Hux had never held First Order secrets in anything but the strictest confidence. "I understand, sir."

"Excellent." His hand passed over a sensor on the table, and a holographic model of a world with what appeared to be a band sliced through it appeared above the table. A wolfish smile spread across his features when he realized what purpose the recess at the very center of the band must serve. "Once it's built, it'll be the most formidable weapon in the history of the galaxy, capable of destroying entire systems at once." The man's voice was hushed, reverent, as if in the presence of a god. And, Hux thought, perhaps, in some ways, they were. Even the Empire had never worked on a project of this magnitude.

Again, the man's voice interrupted his thoughts. "I'll leave it to the engineers to explain the mechanics of the operation. I'm sure you have much to discuss."


	11. Chapter 11

From a purely objective point of view, the weapon was a technological marvel. The Death Star had been the size of a small moon; Starkiller Base would require an entire world. Its power was unrivaled in the history of the galaxy. Hux had heard whispers in far-flung tapcafs of long-ago stations with the power to crush worlds, to hold entire star systems together through ancient engineers' mastery of gravity, but Hux saw nothing to suggest these whispers were anything more than myths. There was an entire galaxy of wonders to be discovered. Surely a system of five inhabitable worlds was not so improbable as to require such a tale.

But Starkiller… Starkiller Base was the monster hiding in the shadows and under the beds of children everywhere. They would hear, on schoolyards across the galaxy, whispers of a weapon that devoured suns, that reduced star systems to their composite molecules with only the pull of a lever. When they were tucked in at night, the specter of the base would be there with them, and they would ask their parents or nanny droids to assure them that the monster isn't real, that it can't hurt them. And though their caregivers longed to tell them otherwise, they would have no comforting words to offer. For before Starkiller, all of them were children, unsure when it would emerge from under their beds to strike. It was incredible.

But more importantly, it was his. The culminations of years of effort, of demanding nothing short of perfection both from himself and those around him, was now so close that he could practically reach out and touch it.

Since he had been shown the plans three days prior, Hux had been the single fixed point in a flurry of activity. He would have to cede control of his fleet, including the _Leveler,_ to another, as-of-yet unnamed general, and there were mountains of work to be done before the transfer could take place. He had to finalize the core team of individuals that would transfer with him Starkiller Base and find temporary replacements for them among the rest of the crew. Then there would be the new general to brief, paperwork to be finished, and his own packing to do. And that didn't include the usual work as well as the dozens of small tasks that arose whenever a gear shifted in a well-oiled machine.

Unfortunately, he could only work on a few of those tasks while trapped aboard this shuttle, and it would be several days until they rejoined the _Leveler_. Though he did hate to delegate important tasks, for though he trusted Tellers and Phasma to do well, there was always anxiety involved in leaving essential tasks to eyes less detail-oriented than his own, circumstances occasionally called for such measures. He spent hours hurrying through the forms he could do without being personally aboard the _Finalizer_ and making endless corrections and changes to his list of personnel to bring with him. Tellers was essential, as was Phasma, as he doubted he would find better among the core command group already stationed on what would someday become Starkiller Base, but the others constantly rotated. Hux wanted to leave a few capable individuals to smooth the transition for the next general, but he also would need all the help he could get directing the construction of Starkiller.

The headache pills the medical droid had given him helped, but even with them, nine hours of staring at his datapad became unbearable. Hux massaged his temples, hoping it would be enough to get him through another hour or so. When he looked back down at the screen, the words danced before him in a nauseating blur. Never mind, then. He supposed a quick check-in with the pilot was in order. He ducked into the cockpit. Though certainly taller than the average human male, Hux had never considered himself unusually tall, but he could not stand in the low-ceilinged cockpit of his assigned shuttle. That would have to change with his new assignment.

"Good evening, General." On board shuttles, the usual requirements became somewhat relaxed. He had to admit he appreciated it, even if he would never implement such changes onboard the _Leveler._

He nodded to the man. "And to you as well. How many hours do we have left in transit?"

"Seven, sir, but we'll be making a short detour. We've received a signal from an agent requesting extraction."

Hux frowned. He should have been informed before any such decision was made. "No. I must be back on board the _Leveler_ as soon as possible."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I have orders from Lord Ren. He insisted that we pick him up on our way back."

That was a name he had hoped to never hear again. Just when he thought he might have escaped Ren forever, the man insisted on becoming an even larger nuisance. This wasn't helping his headache. "And what happened to Lord Ren's shuttle? He has always been adamant that no one else be allowed to come too close to it."

The pilot shook his head. "I don't know. All I have are coordinates where we're supposed to rendezvous with him."

Oh, excellent. He had gone and destroyed his shuttle. One could at least hope it had been in a battle of some kind and not one of those temper tantrums Ren was so fond of throwing, but Hux knew Ren too well to assume there was a legitimate reason for such destruction. "When will we be rendezvousing with Lord Ren?"

"We have half an hour left in hyperspace, sir."

"Very good. Carry on." Much as he was loathe to do so, Hux went back to his cramped office and powered his datapad back on. He ought to get some work done while he still could. Ren, he was sure, would find some way to distract him the instant he came on board.

* * *

Two hours. He looked down at his chrono yet again. No, two and a half hours they had been waiting, and Ren still had not bothered to show or comm in. Hux had already ordered the pilot to check the coordinates twice, and he had looked them over himself as well, and he was entirely confident now that fault lay entirely with Ren. He supposed there was a bit of poetic justice to what would hopefully be their last meeting being so much like their first, but that did nothing to dull his annoyance. Had Ren not demanded that they pick him up, Hux would be back onboard the _Leveler_ right now. Instead, he was stuck in some disgustingly humid jungle that had practically glued his clothes against his skin. Even though he had only stepped outside the shade for a half hour or so to see if Ren was somewhere nearby, he could feel the feverish effects of a sunburn taking hold. Hux was certain that his skin would be bright pink when he woke up tomorrow morning, and knowing that Ren was to blame for his discomfort did nothing to make it more bearable.

Hux had taken position under the wing of the shuttle. He had long ago given up on getting any more work done today, and here, he was at least partially shaded from the sun's rays. He spun around the moment he heard steps on the ramp to see the pilot coming down. "Did he respond?" Hux already knew the answer, but he really hoped Ren would surprise him.

He shook his head. "No, I couldn't get ahold of him. What should we do, sir?"

Hux considered their options for a moment. If Ren were to show up and they had left, it would be unpleasant for all involved. On the other hand, he had important business to attend to, and waiting for Ren on some hellhole wasn't helping anyone. "We'll give him another half hour. If he's not here by then, we'll leave a message for him to find another shuttle."

"Very good, sir."

He heard a familiar sound from the brush, and purely out of instinct, Hux ducked. Training had ingrained certain movements into him, and he had his blaster out of his thigh holster only a split second after the blaster bolt struck the wing behind him. "Get the ship ready for takeoff! We're leaving as soon as possible!" he shouted to the pilot, not bothering to check if he was even still outside. Hux did not bother to aim, instead shooting wildly into the dense brush as he moved behind the wing. It wouldn't shield him forever, but it at least provided some cover.

The forest went still for a moment, and as his eyes flicked over the area, searching for anything amiss, he reached for his comlink. The guards should have stopped the threat, whatever it was, before it got this close to him. "FI-289, come in." No response came. Incapacitated or dead, it really made no difference to him. "LS-311, come in." Again, no response.

Nothing had moved in the brush for several seconds. He shot randomly into the trees just to see if it would make his assailant move. It didn't, and through the exhaust port, he could feel the engine beginning to come to life, so he edged out of his spot. The instant he moved, Hux heard a sound in the trees, and he again shot into the brush. Then, a dark figure erupted from the trees blasterfire surrounding him, and he squeezed the trigger a dozen more times in rapid succession. When he recognized Ren, his eyes widened, and Hux had just enough of his wits still about him to direct his fire away from the knight and towards the other figures that had begun emerging from the jungle.

Ren was a masterpiece. His blade whirled around him as he spun towards the Resistance troops, for, Hux belatedly realized, that was what their enemies had to be, and he was reminded of nothing so much as the Mon Calamari water ballet his mother had taken him to once as a child. The dancers had a grace to them that Ren's solid frame would seem incapable of, but he outshone them in a way that made Hux never want to look away. Still, there was a fight to be won, and he could not remain both distracted and alive for long. Hux added to the blasterfire that scattered the clearing, doing his best to avoid Ren, though the man moved so quickly and erratically that it was difficult not to send a few towards the knight.

Ren batted away several shots, and one of the Resistance troops screamed as his own bolt pierced him through the chest. Another fell as Ren sliced him from shoulder to abdomen, leaving a clean, diagonal burn through his torso. The numbers might still be on the Resistance's side, but the momentum had shifted. Hux allowed himself a grim smile as he aimed at a female human perhaps a few years older than himself. He had just begun to squeeze the trigger when a crippling pain flowered against his chest. He dropped to his knees, losing his shot, and the blast was lost into the wing of his shuttle.

He breathed heavily, trying to hold on to any concrete thought. It hurt, it hurt terribly, pain on a magnitude he had never felt before. Hux traced its source to the left side of his chest. It couldn't be his heart, or he'd be dead already and it wouldn't still hurt. He held onto that. Breathe, it's not your heart, breathe, it's not your heart. The fight before him faded in and out with shadow and that Mon Cal ballet until he wasn't sure which was which, or if it really made any difference at all.


	12. Chapter 12

Everything hurt. No, he had to do better than that. Should he receive proper medical care, such an imprecise description would slow the medics' attempts at healing him. The pain focused on the upper left portion of his chest and his left thigh.

"I believe a medical droid would be able to find where you'd been shot without assistance, General." Ren. Why was he thinking of Ren at a time like this? No, he couldn't be bothered, not when a moment's delay could be the difference between life and death. But all the same, the images hovered in the outskirts of his mind. A fight, a dance, the hum of a lightsaber, fear overtaking the Resistance soldiers the instant they realized they could not win, absolute art, every piece of it. It was art, and a masterpiece for the ages at that. And Ren was the fulcrum of it all.

"I did not realize you were so enamored with my work." That same deep voice intruded upon the fantastical memory.

Finally, he forced himself to open his eyes. The bright white lights above brought with them a searing pain, and he quickly shut his eyes. A few seconds later, he tried again. The lights, he realized, were no brighter than they were on any regulation First Order medbay.

In direct contrast was Ren, clothed as ever in his thick, dark robes. "General Hux. I was wondering when you would rejoin us." Kylo Ren looked as though he had not taken a sanisteam in weeks. His dark hair, which had been soft and smooth the first time Hux saw it, now hung in long, greasy strands, and a thin, patchy beard and mustache had sprouted around his lips and along his jawline. It may have been petty of him, but Hux took some satisfaction in that he could grow a better beard than the leader of the Knights of Ren.

Hux sneered. "What are you doing here? Do you not have other, more important matters to attend to?"

"I saved your life."

"Ren, you are the one that put me in danger to begin with!" He forced himself to calm down, to reclaim his trademark iciness no matter how difficult it was when dealing with this particular individual. "It's hardly valid to bring up that you stopped me from dying when I never would have been shot if not for your actions," he finished. Hux had to congratulate himself on how calm he managed to stay. Were it not for the fact that he was lying helpless in the medbay, clad only in a hospital gown, one might believe he was in control of this situation.

Naturally, Ren was more difficult to impress. "Perhaps I should have allowed you to die, General. I'm certain your replacement would have been appreciative."

He scoffed at that. "That only would have shown the Supreme Leader that you place more weight on your personal agenda than the needs of the First Order."

"You are hardly irreplaceable." Ren stood, and from this angle, he looked more physically imposing than ever. A rush coursed through Hux as he stared up at Ren, feeling so small and powerless in comparison. Ren was already enormous, and his abilities with the Force made him physically more than a match for Hux any day, but never had this difference been so obvious, so titillating. Had Hux believed in any kind of greater power, he would have prayed that Ren would not notice this shift. As it was, he could only hope and do his best to keep his expression neutral. With a man who read minds, Hux put little faith in either. "And watching over you is not worth my time. I have other business to attend to."

"Then why are you still here? I assure you I have no great desire for your company."

Ren reached for his mask, which he had left on the table next to him. Hux watched, half-transfixed, as he moved it into position and latched into place. The knight waited a few long moments, staring at him, the only sound in the room the regular _hiss_ of his ventilator. Warmth crept up his neck and towards his cheeks, surely nothing more than a side effect of whatever drugs they had pumped into his system, but still, one would hope that Ren would not draw any incorrect conclusions from his flush. "Congratulations on your new post, General," he said before whirling towards the door, his cape billowing out behind him. Ren's constant desire for the dramatic would leave even the youngest, most naïve recruits rolling their eyes.

And yet, Hux found himself watching the knight's movements until the door slid shut between them.

* * *

He could rest easy knowing that his earlier, disgusting interest in Ren could be attributed to an absolute cocktail of medications. Analgesics, antifibrinolytics, benzodiazepines, and a host of other drugs still coursed through his bloodstream at what Hux considered worryingly high dosages. The medical droids assured him that each of the drugs had been absolutely necessary under the circumstances, but that did not rule out the possibility of unfortunate consequences. One could hardly pump a dozen drugs into a human's system without overwhelming some portion of their brain. He was fortunate that the worst he had come up with was an invented attraction to Kylo Ren. Hux could imagine a nearly infinite number of worse scenarios, and so he felt secure in dismissing the short-lived attraction for what it was, a ghost of past desires heightened by the medications and projected onto the first human he saw. In such a situation, even one of the female medics would have sufficed, for surely his mind could have overwhelmed his personal proclivity towards men. Ren was nothing special, and after all, Hux was only human. Such lapses were to be expected.

Still, that did not mean one should not strive for perfect self-control, even over one's thoughts. Hux had made the argument on several separate occasions that more of the Stormtroopers' conditioning program should be directed towards mental discipline, and huge strides had been made in that direction as a result.

Physical discipline could not be dismissed either, and Hux knew it would take far longer for his body to return to its prior condition than his mind. The medics insisted on three days in the bacta tank, as it would further repair the burn damage done by the blaster bolt that had missed his heart only by millimeters. Hux had initially rejected the idea. Resting in the infirmary, he could at least finish some work, but entering the tank would entirely deprive the _Leveler_ of her general. He had been convinced not by their emotional appeals, that he would _feel better sooner_ or _make his mother sleep easier knowing her son's getting the best care_ , but by cold, emotionless data. On average, it took a patient 6.8 days, nearly a week, to recuperate to the extent that a day spent in a bacta tank would allow. He had to resume his post as quickly as possible. Phasma and Tellers had managed well enough during his absence; they could continue to do so for another couple days.

He had settled for two days in the tank. It would not return him to peak physical shape, the medics warned, but it should be enough to ensure that day to day tasks and light exercise would not reopen his wounds.

Hux was glad that he had agreed only to the shorter period. Though the bacta was soothing, it smelled bitter, and even though the breathing mask covered his mouth, he could always taste it. Supposedly, bacta tasted similar to Mon Cal ice root. Hux had never tried Mon Cal ice root, but after this, he doubted he ever would, at least willingly. That much, he had expected. Hux hadn't realized what having forty-eight hours to think would do to him. Most of the time, he was able to direct his thoughts towards practical matters: revising his roster of individuals to bring with him, drafting memos, creating checklists for tasks to be completed once he was pulled from the tank.

The rest of the time, he thought about Ren. Memories bubbled up. Ren's face not far above his, leather-clad hands against his chest, watching the room glow golden as power, unfiltered life, flowed through him, concentrating around his heart. These memories were fuzzy, and he had no doubt his memory had taken certain liberties with their factual content. Still, they left him with much to ponder.

It was of no matter. He had completed nearly all of the necessary preparations for the coming change in command. Once he was gone from the _Leveler_ , Ren would cease to be his concern. He could bother her new commander to his heart's content for all Hux cared. Were it not a waste of time, he would be counting down the seconds until he never had to see the man again.

* * *

The final preparations went even more smoothly than expected. Merely three days after his removal from the bacta tank, he and a handful of key staff boarded the shuttle that would deliver them to Starkiller Base.

There had been only a few goodbyes to make. The crew had been informed of his departure, but as he had not announced his new command, the general assumption seemed to be that he had been demoted, and severely so. Few officers wanted to associate themselves with failure, and so he had plenty of uninterrupted time to ensure he was prepared for the coming change. That did not stop him, though, from carefully noting the names of those who did bother to say goodbye. It was always good to know who was truly loyal.

He did not see Ren at any point in those two days. Perhaps the man was off on some mission, or he thought their encounter in the medbay was enough of a farewell. Hux told himself that he did not care either way and resisted the temptation to go to Ren's room for one more argument. Things done simply for old times' sake were rarely things worth doing at all.

When the moment came, he chose to sit in the shuttle's office instead of with the rest of his staff. The office boasted a large viewport, and for the first time, he did not bother to increase the opacity to block out the stars outside. Hux prided himself on not being prone to sentiment, but he could not help but watch the _Leveler_ as it shrunk to nothingness in the viewport. He had spent years on board, his efforts all directed towards making her the best-run, most efficient ship in the fleet. Hux liked to think that he had succeeded.

Still, there were other, more important tasks that demanded his consideration. He pulled out a datapad and flicked through the files on Starkiller Base one more time before his arrival.


	13. Chapter 13

Electricity tingled through his veins as he stepped onto Starkiller Base for the first time. Power clung to the air here, potential and possibilities swimming through it. Hux had never visited a world that felt more charged, more alive.

Not that Starkiller was much to look at, at least, not yet. Though work had already begun in earnest in other sectors, the crews here had so far done little more than clear a few trees to create a landing pad. As far as his vision stretched, Hux saw only snow and trees punctuated by a few prefabricated dwellings for the work crews. The world the engineers had chosen to house the weapon was hardly notable. Orbiting a perfectly average star in the far reaches of the Unknown Regions, before its selection, the only name the planet could claim was a string of letters and numbers, its standard scientific designation. In its natural state, STR00718KR24GH29A could not support most forms of humanoid life, which had saved it from colonization for centuries. The engineers' first step upon arriving had been to install pumps, modified versions of the life support systems used in all space vessels, that kept the oxygen content at a level comfortable for humans. STR00718KR24GH29A had been modified and tamed, brought to its knees and forced to serve the First Order. Soon, the rest of the galaxy would join it.

One could only entertain such romantic notions for so long before they became inefficiencies. He turned to the leader of the welcoming party, a short, dark-haired man in his late thirties. His offer to come inside for refreshments was appreciated, but it would hardly aid their progress on the weapon. "You can have one of your men escort my staff to their new offices. I'm certain they will want to start work as soon as possible. You, Lieutenant, I want to personally lead my tour of your base."

The man looked taken aback by his directness. The old leadership must have been lacking if it allowed such frivolities. Hux would have to accustom the workers here to a more disciplined approach. Still, Lieutenant Kapstan recovered quickly enough. "Sergeant Lhun, drive the general's staff to the main camp. Caquel, Hamson, you two go with him. General, if you'll follow me, I have a speeder waiting for our tour." He set off at a brisk pace, not bothering to look behind him and ensure that Hux was following.

Hux fell into step beside the man. "We were left waiting for quite some time before our request to land was granted. What other security features have been put in place?" He had read the progress reports, but the official word only ever told one side to the story.

"We have the sensor system that alerted us to your presence as well as a staff member whose job it is to verify the authorizations of incoming vessels. There are guns on the surface now that can stop any ship before it lands in any of the sectors under construction." They had reached the garage, and Kapstan punched in the access code. "We're at work adding canons in the sectors where construction hasn't been started, but the terrains so rough in those areas that it's been slow going."

He appreciated the shelter from the wind that stepping inside the garage brought. After a childhood spent largely on Arkanis, Hux had thought himself well-prepared for Starkiller's cold weather, but it seemed he had grown more accustomed to the regulated temperatures aboard the Star Destroyers than he had realized. He ignored the row of orange speeders for the moment, instead peering up at the support beams. It looked like good, solid construction. No signs of leaning or visible cracks, which he took as an excellent sign of the quality of work being done on the base. On this particular project, there was no room for error. "And what measures have been put in place until the canons are operational?"

Kapstan floundered for a moment, and once he had mentally counted to ten, Hux chose to show him mercy. "Starting now, there will be two TIEs in orbit at all times. They will be in constant communication with the individual who watches the sensors."

Kapstan's adam's apple bobbed in his throat. "Excellent idea, sir. Are there any other protections you would like put in place?"

"Not for now. Shall we begin our tour?"

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir." Kapstan stumbled over his words as he climbed into the driver's seat. Hux followed, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He had little doubt that his orders would be put into action within minutes.

* * *

Without the distractions that came with commanding a sizable portion of the fleet, Hux could direct all of his attention towards the construction. The efficiency on Starkiller Base was incredible. Every resource the First Order had to offer was his with a single call. The crews worked well past normal hours without a hint of complaint, for here, nobody dared to question his authority. Unlike his time on the _Leveler_ , once a project was finished, it stayed complete. Nobody here would dream of taking out their anger on a corridor or slicing through a set of consoles at bad news. The construction was running almost a week ahead of schedule, a pace unheard of in any large projects.

Whether that would be enough to please the Supreme Leader remained to be seen. Hux stood on the dais in the center of the enormous stone conference room, waiting for the transmission to begin. He had been waiting for over fifteen minutes, and though Snoke was a busy man with many demands on his time, Hux doubted that the delay was anything but calculated. He could not blame the Supreme Leader. Were he to task another with building a weapon capable of subduing the galaxy, he would surely want to remind that individual of their place as well.

Finally, the image crackled to life, the projection dwarfing Hux. Surely the Supreme Leader could not be so large in actuality. Though Hux had always had his doubts that Snoke was human, as all First Order publications reported, he could not stand ten meters tall. The size of his image instead came as another reminder of his authority, and an obvious and desperate one at that. If the man truly held the nearly infinite power he claimed, why would he feel the need for such a display?

He put those thoughts away for later and bowed at the waist. "Supreme Leader."

"General Hux. I have heard promising reports on your progress." His voice was deep and booming, and the sound reverberated off of Hux's chest.

"We are almost a week ahead of schedule. I expect that the weapon should be complete on time."

"Good, good." He settled back into his throne. "Now, tell me what it is that worries you." The question caught Hux off guard, for he had been certain that his face betrayed nothing. According to his research, no Force user should be able to read his mind over such a distance. "I feel your worry. Tell me what causes it."

"I am not sure about the security of this project." He waited a moment, allowing it to sink in. "Right now, the weapon is vulnerable. Should the Resistance or the Republic take the opportunity to attack, we would lose months of work, billions of credits, thousands of troops, and the best engineers in the Order."

"And where do you believe this vulnerability lies?"

He had to tread lightly here, for anyone on Starkiller Base had earned the trust of the highest ranks of the Order. "We can stop any spy ships that enter the system. Of that, I'm certain. However, our greatest advantage now is the secrecy around Starkiller Base. We have no way of fending off a full-scale attack on the planet. I am concerned that should anyone alert them to the existence of this station, we would be unable to protect the Order's investment." Snoke might be willing to hear out his concerns in order to save his superweapon, but should he incorrectly assume Hux was trying to cast doubt on some of his many rivals, the man's ire could be drawn towards him.

Hux waited several long heartbeats for the Supreme Leader's response. "Very good, general. I will send you an associate of mine, one that will be able to root out any traitors among your crew. He will join you shortly."

"Thank you, Supreme Leader."

"You have done well, General Hux. You are to be commended."

He bowed again, deeper this time. "Thank you again. I am always eager to serve the First Order."

"As you should be." The image faded, and Hux was left with those last words echoing again and again through his skull and an uneasy feeling that he already knew the associate to which Snoke alluded.


	14. Chapter 14

Nine days later, his concerns were realized. He had hoped for one of the other Knights of Ren, but in hindsight, Hux realized that he should have known Snoke would not entrust such a task to any but his most skilled knight. That the human cyclone Ren should be that most trusted knight never failed to make him shudder.

Ren's arrival was to be marked with none of the fanfare that had characterized their first meeting. On Starkiller, rumors spread quickly. Any semblance of secrecy would be lost the instant any but the most trusted officers became aware of Ren's presence, and in rooting out potential spies and saboteurs, secrecy was an invaluable weapon. They discussed the arrangements in a series of notes over an encrypted channel. While Hux had fully expected to be left to do the planning himself, along with the dozens of other tasks that required his attention each day, Ren surprised him by taking care of most of the details. Hux only had to tweak a few points here and there before he was satisfied.

At least twenty supply ships came into the system every day. Some were regular, and the crews knew to expect them. The largest of the three rations deliveries, for example, came every four days precisely at 0800 hours. Knowing Ren's inability to arrive anywhere on time, Hux had opted for him to arrive along with an enormous load of specialized construction equipment. The shuttle came often enough that it should not arouse much suspicion among the work crews, but it had developed no real schedule, meaning that Ren had a huge window of time to land.

For what felt like the first time in years, no one was watching him. He could not disable the holocams in this area, but with some clever scheduling, Hux had ensured that no one would be monitoring them this afternoon. Should he choose to fidget or slump, even bite his fingernails, there would be no one to see his actions, to judge them as unbefitting of a general. He maintained perfect posture all the same. Hux had been perfectly punctual, a habit he found impossible to break, no matter how unlikely Ren being early seemed, and minutes ticked into hours as he stood, waiting. Tellers had been instructed to inform any searching for him that he had gone home sick, but all the same, the longer he waited here, the more of a chance they had of being discovered.

He had been waiting for three hours by the time the hatch finally dilated. Hux kept his face impassive as the huge, dark shuttle set down, but his heart pounded against his chest. He hated how much he had thought about Ren during their time apart, and he wondered idly if Ren had done the same. After only a moment of consideration, he pushed that thought away. They had far more important matters to attend to.

A hydraulic hiss signaled the ramp's extension, and an instant later, Ren appeared. Hux did not allow him to reach the bottom of the ramp before going out to meet him. "Ren." It was the only welcome he was willing to extend. Hux had been too accommodating when the knight arrived on the _Leveler_. He refused to make the same mistake twice.

"Hux." Ren left off the honorific as well. Perhaps he did deserve the credit that the Supreme Leader gave him, or perhaps he was just being the same stubborn beast as always.

"If you are ready, I thought we could get started immediately. We will start with the furthermost outposts. They're staffed largely with young recruits whose loyalty has not yet been tested and have the least communication with other stations." He started for the speeder that would deliver Ren to Sector Five, not bothering to check and see that Ren was following.

The steady, mechanical breathing coming from behind him told Hux that he had indeed. "An excellent plan, general. Perhaps you are learning."

His shoulders went stiff at that, but Hux did not allow any other reaction to show.

* * *

There was no need for him to be present at the individual screenings. That did not stop him from taking an hour out of his day to watch one, for no matter if he could contribute to the process or not, Hux would not allow himself to be ignorant of the details of such an important event on his base.

The staff had been informed the day before of a mandatory meeting at 1400 hours. Hux watched them file in on his holopad. The discipline in this sector would need to be improved, for the last few stragglers did not arrive until 1407. He noted the delay on a piece of flimsy and patiently waited for the meeting to begin.

It started slowly, with perhaps twenty of the sector's hundred and fifty workers called into a smaller room. Confusion rolled off the crowd in waves, but to their credit, nobody questioned the move out loud. Had Hux been in their place, he would have been furious at the delays. Halting work all over the sector for an activity that would happen one group at a time? Ridiculous.

He flipped over to the next holocam, this one located in the smaller adjoining room. The units in this room had no audio capabilities, which was a shame, but at least he could watch as the workers fanned out around Ren. After that, the room went still, to the point that Hux wondered if the cam had malfunctioned. He scrolled over to a different holocam, but it showed the same sight. All twenty staff members stood perfectly still, rigid as durasteel, eyes open almost too wide to be human. Finally, movement. Ren walked, no, _stalked_ through the group, passing over some with little more than a glance, pausing for up to a minute in front of others.

At the end of his loop, Ren moved back towards one of the first individuals he had screened, a stormtrooper. If memory served correctly – and Hux had rarely known it not to – Ren had spent only a few seconds with the man earlier. He rested his hand on his lightsaber as he studied the man for a second time, and Hux found himself leaning in towards the screen, searching for some hint of what Ren had noticed. Even after zooming in on the image, he saw nothing unusual. Average height, blonde hair kept regulation short, and skin perhaps even lighter than Hux's… besides being a few kilos above his ideal body mass, nothing about the man would suggest he harbored thoughts of treason. But Ren had senses far beyond what Hux could dream of possessing. Ren moved so quickly that his lightsaber registered as little more than a flash. The trooper fell to the ground in two pieces. His eyes remained wide open.

Slowly, the others in the room began to relax. A few rubbed at their eyes as if trying to wipe away the last remnants of a nap. They went back into the larger room as if nothing had happened. Though several had to step over the corpse in order to leave, none seemed to notice its presence. Hux scrolled back to the other room to see that the others were still waiting quietly, if not happily, for their own turn. If anybody noticed that twenty had gone in and only nineteen returned, they let no sign of it peek through. Excellent.

As much as he enjoyed watching traitors get what was coming to them, he could not devote the entire afternoon to it. Hux set the datapad at the corner of his desk – still well within view – and reached for his comlink. "Captain Phasma, come in."

"Sir."

"I need a trooper looked up. I can't provide you with an identification number, but I will send an image that the facial recognition systems should be able to use. I want you to review his file. Send note of anything out of the ordinary directly to me."

"Understood."

"That will be all, Captain. Hux out."

He could feel another migraine coming on, and his wound was bothering him. The medics had told him that good rest was the best cure for both, but he had no time waste on sleep right now. He had expected a few officers would be caught by Ren's purge, for many left the Academy with more ambition than was good for them, but he had not foreseen any issues with the stormtroopers. Conditioned from birth for perfect loyalty, no trooper should be able to even think of betraying the First Order, much less be in immediate danger of doing so. Such a matter had to be addressed immediately. Hux pulled up a document and started drafting a memo to the director of the conditioning unit, headache forgotten as he typed the beginnings of the very urgent letter.

* * *

"Well, what did you find?" Hux waited a long moment for a reply, but he soon realized that none was forthcoming. "Ren, how many among my crew were potential traitors?" The other man lifted a gloved hand, and Hux felt himself pinned to his chair. He would not give the man the satisfaction of struggling. After all, to do so would be futile. "Ren, let me go immediately."

"Did you truly believe that you were above suspicion?" Ren said, his hand morphing into a fist."I didn't know you were so naïve."

With all the finesse of a reek, Hux felt his mind pried open. There were secrets there, schemes and worries and bodies best left in the closet. Kylo tore through them as one might a cabinet of flimsi, letting thoughts go flying this way and that. Hux steeled himself as images flashed before him. His graduation from the Academy, standing next to his father as he watched the First Order flag replace the Imperial one that flew in front of Arkanis' capital, breaking his wrist at age seven, all laid bare before him. Never had Hux felt so exposed in front of another.

The next memory was far more recent. Ren stood above him, mask removed. Hux reached up from where he sat at his desk to stroke the man's cheek, and in response, Ren bent down for a kiss.

Color rose to his cheeks, hot enough to burn. He did not move his eyes away from Ren's mask. "Interesting, general." The voice rumbled through him, and his breath hitched.

The memory of the dream continued in agonizing detail, Hux watching as his hand fisted in Ren's smooth hair, as he let it run between his fingers, smooth and silky. Ren bit down on his lip, hard enough that he could feel the sting even now, and he responded in kind a moment later. The coppery taste of blood flooded his senses, dizzyingly intense, and he hardly cared who it belonged to. His skin burned now, in embarrassment or lust, he was not sure.

Ren's eyes never left his, not even as the memory faded away, the daydream tucked back away for another day. He still had not released his Force grip on Hux, and so he had little choice but to watch the mask for any hint of the other man's thoughts. "I see you've missed me."

"I think that missed would be a strong word." Invisible fingers brushed against his cheek, trailing down across his neck. Hux only half-managed to smother his groan.

"No, general. I think that saying you missed me doesn't begin to explain your emotions." Hux's eyes closed as the grip traveled lower, down his chest and stomach, mercifully stopping an inch or two above his hips. Then it was gone, and when he opened his eyes, so was Ren.


	15. Chapter 15

"The gravity well in the fourth sector malfunctioned on our first trials. A faulty pressure gauge had gone undetected in preliminary testing, but the engineers were quickly able to locate it, causing only a short delay. The next trials were successful, and they are examining all similar equipment for such problems. The delays and extra testing left us nearly a week behind schedule, but I believe that we should be able to make up much of that time during the installation of the well in the sixth sector."

Hux longed to reach for the cup of caf kept just out of view. He should have finished it before his holoconference with Perot. The man always went long, and he had a voice that could lull even the most interested listener to sleep. Even Hux, who was usually fascinated with the details of Starkiller's construction, found himself fighting the seductive pull of sleep. Still, Perot droned on. "Though it's approximately ten percent smaller than the one here, the well's design is very similar to the one here. With your permission, I would like to assign the same team to work on Six's well."

It took Hux a few seconds to realize he had been asked for permission. He pretended to consider it for a second. "Yes, that seems reasonable."

"Excellent. I believe it will greatly expedite the installation. The schedule calls for almost as much time in Six as we took in Four – I don't have the exact times in front of me, but I believe the difference was less than a day. Barring any unforeseen difficulties, I think we should make up at least three days' time." That sounded like a concluding remark, but Hux didn't want to get his hopes up. A good choice, because he would have been severely disappointed. "I would also like to discuss a few discipline issues my crews have had recently."

Minor discipline issues – and he assumed that these were minor, for no reports had crossed his desk of any serious incidents – ought to be handled at the discretion of the supervising officer. However, after learning of a few… overzealous punishments involving lost limbs under Perot, he had asked Perot to check that all punishments were appropriate with him before they were carried out. Hux wished he could go back and stop himself from making that order. Yes, severed hands should be avoided whenever possible, but he had other duties to attend to. Or, in this case, sleep to catch up on. It had been three days since he last saw Ren, and Hux hadn't slept more than an hour any night since. He had reached the limit of what the caffeine pills could manage, and he would consider it a miracle if he made it through the next hour without collapsing.

Still, he could hardly back up on an order now. "Of course." As Perot began listing off offenses and possible punishments, he reached into his pocket for another caffeine pill. With a fake cough, he should be able to take it without Perot noticing.

* * *

He finally escaped the holoconference nearly an hour later. Hux considered curling up in his chair and going to sleep right there in his office, but quickly decided against it. If he was out of the office, his subordinates would have to think twice before disturbing him with trivial matters. He could tolerate no more fools this evening.

His skin felt loose and sagging, and Hux grimaced when he caught sight of himself in the polished surface of his door. Deep purple bags hung under watery, bloodshot eyes. He'd end up looking like Palpatine if he kept thinking about Ren when he ought to be sleeping.

"I wouldn't worry so much about that. You're halfway there already." He started at the sound of the voice. When he flipped on the light, he found Ren sitting in his chair, mask nowhere to be seen. Of all the impertinent things he could have done, he had gone and chosen this, and tonight of all nights. Disobey his commands, make a mess of his command, bloody go through his mind, Hux could almost accept it, but nobody entered a general's quarters without their permission.

"You came into mine without my consent. I sense a double standard, general."

"Get out," Hux snapped.

Ren ignored him. "Palpatine had red hair as well, though he was already balding by the time he became chancellor. How about you? Does your father still have a full head of hair, or, pardon the pun, are you headed the same direction?"

Juvenile, always so very juvenile. "What do you want?"

"To talk to you."

"About?" he prodded. That pain behind his eyes was starting up again, and his knees felt like they could buckle beneath him at any moment. He needed Ren gone, and he needed it now.

Hux was not so tired as to miss the man's expression. He needed that mask, for his emotions were written too clearly on his face for him to ever be truly threatening without it. Now, he looked wounded, confused, perhaps a little afraid. Not what the galaxy would associate with a Knight of Ren at all. "Nothing in particular. I just thought you might want to talk to me."

"And why would I want that?"

"You –"

Hux cut him off. "What in our recent interactions has told you that I would want to spend any more time with you than was absolutely necessary? You cause me nothing but problems. You destroy my ship piece by piece. You promote officers – my duty – without my knowledge or permission –"

"Captain Phasma has done an excellent job in her new position. You said as much yourself."

He raised his voice to talk over Ren. "And just when I thought I had gotten rid from you, just when I thought I would never have to see you again, you show up on my base and force your way into my mind. And now, when all I want is to sleep, to get the rest I need in order to do my job, here you are again, kriffing things up just like you always do. After all that, you still think I want to talk to you?" He did want it, wanted so much more than just to talk to Ren, but what he wanted and what duty required of him were two very different beasts. Hux could not allow himself to be whisked away by attraction, not when he would ruin his hard-earned career in the process.

 _I think you protest too much, general._

"Get out of my head!"

Ren flinched, but those tendrils, fingerlike and strange, receded. Hux stared at him, confused. "You did it," he said, dumbfounded. Had Ren ever followed an order without first fighting it like a poorly trained nexu attacked anything that dared enter its cage?

"Yes."

"Why?" Hux's voice was softer now, all but the slightest trace of anger gone.

"Because you asked me to."

It was a tactical maneuver. It had to be. When had Ren ever been smart, patient enough to plan ahead? Baiting traps meant one would have to come back later to check on them, to maintain them until the prey was caught. It took Hux a long moment to realize that Ren was watching him, eyes wide and almost innocent. "I asked you to leave as well."

"If that's what you want, I will. But I don't think either of us really wants that."

His hand clenched into a fist. "Leave. If you have business to discuss with me, you can make an appointment, just like any other officer." Ren faltered for a moment. " _Now_."

Finally, Ren left, his dark cloak fanning out behind him. The breeze it created as he walked by caressed Hux's face, and a part of him wanted to lean into the phantom embrace. But such weakness was not to be tolerated. He kept his perfect posture until the door shut and Ren's heavy footsteps faded away down the corridor, only then allowing himself to collapse on his bed.


	16. Chapter 16

When Hux was young, no more than four or five, his father had taken him to the moon of Orinda to visit the hunting lodge of one of his friends. He remembered the overpowering smell of sulfur that had welcomed them the instant they stepped onto the surface and never quite faded during their stay. Even during the summer months, the moon's surface never reached above freezing, and the winds howled so loudly during the night that Hux had lain awake that first night, huddled under his blankets and terrified the walls would cave in around him at any moment. The moon would have held no appeal for the Imperial elite had it not been for the vrali. Six-legged with thick, matted brown fur, vrali looked almost like the plush animals that sat on children's beds all over the galaxy, but they were among the shrewdest animals still legally hunted. They could see through traps that other prey would blindly wander into and evade all but the most skilled hunters. But Moff Jelten, the owner of the lodge at which they had stayed, had found a way to catch them. Though the vrali understood the concept of a trap, and had even been known to create traps of their own for the hunters that pursued them, they could be lured in if the bait was tempting enough. Placing a parlian carcass at the mouth didn't ensure that you would catch the vrali, but it would at least put the creature in the correct position for the jaws to snap closed.

That hadn't been enough for young Hux. He had been certain there was a better way to trap the vrali. Why entice when a bit of cleverness would get you the same? After they returned home, he had spent hours after lessons designing traps to capture the creatures, and even today, he believed some of them would have worked. He never got the chance to test them, for once the rationing began, there was no fuel for travel, no extra money for grand hunting lodges. After the Battle of Orinda, there were no vrali. They needed the unique blend of sulfur and nitrogen that composed the atmosphere to survive, and once the Republic razed the moon's surface, their only habitat was gone. When it mattered most, their cleverness had not been enough to save them.

And he was no better than the extinct vrali, for though Hux could see the trap before him, he insisted on going after the bait. True, Kylo Ren did make for a more attractive lure than a carcass, but the mechanism was the same. Hux could sneak into the trap, steal a few kisses and moments and whatever else it was he wanted, but Hux could not ensure that he would slip out again unscathed.

The Emperor had never disallowed fraternization within his armies' ranks, and as with so many other matters, the First Order had not changed that policy. But allowed and encouraged were two very different beasts. Officers who engaged in relationships with others in the fleet found their careers plateaued or fell to pieces around them. The duties they received went from essential to trivial. They spent years stuck overseeing the spice mines of Kessel or the durasteel plants on Bastion. A few of his peers probably thought that was where he had been sent, he mused, and his lips quirked up at the edge for an instant before a sobering thought came to him.

If he wasn't careful, that would be him soon enough.

* * *

"Sir." Phasma always paused at the threshold to his office. He had never observed her do so anywhere else; rather, she strode around Starkiller as though she expected the ground itself to bow to her. Hux took it as a sign of respect.

"Please, come in. Dinner should be here any moment." Like everything else on Starkiller Base, the food delivery system was not perfect yet. In a few weeks or months, he should be able to time deliveries to the minute. Hux couldn't wait for that day, and the one where they would fix the lights in his office, or the one where the facilities crew would correct the heating in Corridor 7A. Each improvement, no matter how small, felt like victory. Perhaps he was losing his edge here, deep in the Unknown Regions. There had been no conflict greater than a fistfight or two between soldiers since his arrival, a testament to his excellent discipline, but Hux worried that it was also dulling his instincts, making him complacent.

But now was not the time for such concerns. No, tonight was for eating food a cut above the standard rations and conversation with someone whose presence he genuinely enjoyed. Still, business had to be taken care of first. "What was your impression of the security around the rocket ports?"

"Sub-par at best."

He retrieved the decanter of brandy and two glasses from his desk. Much as he hated to admit it, when it came to alcohol, Ren did have impeccable taste. He had been working on this bottle for a few weeks now, and the richness and depth of the flavors never failed to impress him. "What are your recommendations?"

So many of his new officers, those recently graduated from the Academy, would have come to him unprepared for such a question. Happy enough to list the deficiencies of the system put in place by their peers, they would flounder when asked to provide solutions. Idiots. Phasma never disappointed him. "The frequency of patrols should be increased. There are areas that aren't swept more than once an hour." Her voice was cold and clinical behind the mask. "The pressure sensors meet the standards outlined in the plans, but they are monitored only by droids."

"How long did it take them to sense your arrival?"

"Half an hour." Her tone did not change, but Hux had become familiar enough with her body language to know that anger was practically rolling off her. He could not fault her for that. To know that the First Order's investment, his career, was being so poorly guarded was gutting. Hux saw it every night in his nightmares. He knew the fates of the Death Stars too well to be confident that he would not himself someday watch as Starkiller Base erupted into a brilliant cloud of flame.

But Phasma had caught one weakness before the Resistance or anyone else could exploit it, and he was certain that the two of them together would find and correct others. He had to remember that. "And you informed the security officer of these shortfalls."

"He sent extra patrols out while I was there, and he will send a comprehensive plan for your approval by the next cycle."

"Excellent." He offered her a glass of brandy, which she accepted. The alarm chimed, signaling that their food had arrived. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

When he returned, dishes in hand, she had set her helmet on the table. Though she had made some attempt to smooth her hair, in a few pieces still poked out at odd angles from her head. Still, she waited for him to sit down before uncovering her tray, and she took small, polite bites rather than scarfing down her food the way he had seen the soldiers do in mess. He would make a proper captain of her yet.

"Why isn't Ren here?" Her question took him by surprise, for so far, their conversation had not strayed from the ongoing construction.

"Did he express any interest in coming tonight?" he asked.

"Did you invite him?"

Hux shook his head.

Phasma studied him, and he suddenly felt very small, a child again before her. "I have another recommendation for you, sir. I don't know the details of the history between you and Lord Ren, but the tension between you is worrying the officers. They feel that they no longer know who is in charge of this project."

"And what is this recommendation?" He kept his voice even, but only barely.

"Confront him. Work through your differences in whatever way seems best." Reasonable advice open to interpretation. How very generous of her.

"I'll take your thoughts into consideration."

"Thank you, sir."

* * *

He was up and pulling his boots on the instant the alarms started. Hux grabbed his comlink from his bedside table and rushed towards the command center. Other doors were starting to open, revealing officers in varying levels of alertness. He raced around them as he flipped on his comlink. "Hux, requesting update."

"Sir, there's been an ambush in the Rakata system. General Nadire is requesting reinforcements immediately."

Any residual sleepiness vanished immediately as his mind whirred into battle mode. Figures and calculations streamed through his mind, and the others around him faded to nothing more than obstacles to be dodged. When he had gone to bed, they had three hundred TIE fighters on base, as well as twelve gunboats and the smallest capital ship in the fleet. "Are you in communication with Nadire?"

It took her a moment to respond. Asking one of her peers, then. After the battle, he would see that she was properly reprimanded. He couldn't put the security of Starkiller Base in the hands of incompetents. "Not with the general directly, but we have a line open with one of his communications officers."

"What are they up against?"

He could forgive the next pause. "Five capital ships to his one, sir. They didn't have exact figures on how many fighters the Resistance has, but his tacticians are estimating two X-wings to every TIE."

Not good, not good at all. His forces could be there in ten minutes, but they wouldn't be enough to save Nadire's fleet. Hux rounded the corner into the command station. Though the shrill alarms still sounded every quarter of a second, the scene here was one of absolute order and calm. Staffers sat at every station, their faces lit blue by their terminals. He hurried for the communications center. "Is Nadire in contact with any other portions of the fleet?"

The head officer, a man in his late forties, shook his head. "No. We're the only ones stationed within close enough range."

So he really was doomed. Hux paused for a second. "Tell him we can't spare any vessels." It was true enough. Starkiller had to be protected, even if it meant losing a capital ship. He could not send enough firepower to change the tide of the battle, and he would not send his pilots on a suicide mission.

"Tell them that a small force will be there in fifteen minutes." Hux whirled at the sound of the voice, even though he already knew its source.

"Ren, Nadire is outnumbered at least two to one. We can't risk Starkiller for –"

"I'm aware of the situation, general." Ren turned to the communications staff. "I'll bring two gunboats and fifty TIEs."

Hux's next words came out as a hiss. "That's twenty-five percent of our entire force. Without it, we won't be able to defend Starkiller against an attack. You can't hope to save Nadire's fleet with so few fighters."

"You have no authority to stop me."

"The Force isn't enough to stop the Resistance now. Rataka isn't an important system. It's nothing compared to Starkiller. Let it fall."

"Get out of my way, general." Hux tried to protest, but he was held still and silent through the Force. As though keeping Hux perfectly immobilized was no great matter, Ren turned his attention to the dispatchers. "I want the _Tarkin_ , _Thrawn_ , and fifty TIEs launched immediately. Have another TIE readied for me." Finally, he looked back toward Hux. "I will contact you if I have any further needs. See that they are met." The Force grip on him loosened, and Ren strode away in a swirl of dark robes.

* * *

 **A/N:** Do you like the new cover? I do. Credit for it goes to the very talented and wonderfully generous Mags (winter's cry). Thanks for reading!


	17. Chapter 17

He had participated in more battles than he cared to count, but never before had Hux directed one from lightyears away. Without the worry that laser fire could burst through the viewport at any second, the battle felt less real, almost like one of the simulations they had run at the Academy.

Unfortunately, the casualties were all too real. He watched as another red blip faded from the display in front of him. Ren's fleet had only left hyperspace four and a half minutes ago, but already, their force had been reduced to barely half its original size. General Nadire's situation was even more dire. With his fleet reduced to little more than a few escape pods, if by chance's blessing he managed to escape the Rataka system alive, his career was over. Hux might join him if they didn't pull out soon.

"Tell Lord Ren that we have lost twenty-seven fighters of his original force of fifty. He needs to retreat now." Perhaps this time, Ren would listen, but Hux had no great hopes for such an outcome. Ren's piloting showed that he thought himself invincible. He wove his fighter through spaces only tens of centimeters wider than his ship itself and threaded it through countless streams of laser fire. Given Ren's idiocy in devoting their resources to this battle in the first place, Hux almost hoped that one of the bolts would slip past his shields, leaving Ren and his ship nothing more than a collection of twisted metal and loose molecules floating aimlessly through the Rataka system. It would serve him right, and better yet, it would leave Hux solely in command of all of Starkiller's resources.

"Sir, we're no longer in contact with Lord Ren."

When had his carefully selected crew become completely incompetent? "I don't care if he turned his personal comm off. Hail him on the regular channels. I need to talk to him." The comlinks in standard TIE fighters could not be disabled by their pilots, a safety feature implemented after more than one pilot had accidentally turned off their comm in a panic, missing instructions that might very well have saved their ships and their lives.

"The regular channel isn't working, sir. He seems to have destroyed his receiver. Ren's been sending orders to the fleet, but we have no way of contacting him."

A lesser man would have screamed at the officer, perhaps hurled something across the room out of rage. He would expect all of that and more from Ren, had their positions been reversed. Hux only frowned. "Continue to broadcast our analyses, but send them to the individual pilots." If he wanted to get any of his TIEs back, they needed to have an understanding of the battle going on around them.

The reality of the situation made his hands feel clammy beneath his leather gloves. He had no control over his own troops, his own fighters. Hux could do nothing to impact the outcome of this battle, for were he to order the fighters to return to base, Ren would surely stop them from leaving the battle. The command center, which had always felt so welcome and familiar, seemed to mock him. Whether by intent or habit on the part of the engineers, its design echoed that of the bridge of a Star Destroyer. Their raised walkways were copied here, as were the rows upon rows of orderly terminals. With the addition of the main weapon's controls in the far corner, the layout of the space harked back to its predecessors with navigation here, tactical there, and communications at the center. But at the very center of the command station, all Hux could do was wait and watch as more and more red blips disappeared from the screen before him.

* * *

Hours after the battle, when the bridge had calmed to its usual level of activity, Hux ran an analysis of the battle against transcripts of the Siege at Cyimarra over twenty years prior. Cyimarra had been a major turning point in the war between the Rebellion and the Empire, second only to Endor. Nearly five thousand Imperial troops had lost their lives that day, including Admiral Thrawn, the Empire's last hope of quashing the Rebel's growing military before they could fully secure their hold on Coruscant and the rest of the Core. When allowed to choose his own battlefield, Thrawn had been unstoppable. Hardly a week passed where one did not hear of his conquest of another Rebel system.

Cyimarra changed everything. Until that day, no one had given much mind to the system, which contained only a single inhabitable planet notable only for a handful of beautiful naturally-occurring spires. Thrawn had always appreciated art, even the art waiting to be found in nature, and Hux had long thought that the spires might have influenced his decision to hide his fleet in the system while planning his next attack. It was a mistake, the last one Thrawn would get to make. No one knew how the Rebellion had discovered his location, but an armada had jumped into the system, arranging itself in two crescent shapes that trapped Thrawn's Fourth Fleet between Cyimarra and its sun. The Republic turned the strip of space between the star and the planet into a gauntlet of turbolaser fire that even the brilliant Thrawn had been unable to escape. From that day forward, the last remnants of the Empire had been confined to the Unknown Regions, only recently daring to encroach upon the most remote Outer Rim systems. When Starkiller was completed, they would no longer have to sulk. Hux looked forward to the day when the First Order would reclaim the galaxy, which as the heir to the Empire's legacy was its rightful possession.

The computer binged when it finished. He skipped over the detailed results for now, instead going straight to the bottom of the report. A ninety-seven percent correlation between the two strategies was unusually high, even for a student emulating a respected mentor. However, it would not be such an unusual number for a single general at two different points in her career. General Leia Organa had served the Empire a humiliating defeat at Cyimarra, and if his hypothesis proved correct, she had used nearly the same strategy twenty years later to do the same at Rataka. The same strategy, one every student at the Academy studied in detail, and it had worked, leaving their most valuable weapon vulnerable.

He would have Nadire's head for this. If he could manage, Kylo Ren's would sit next to the general's on Hux's shelf.

* * *

"Supreme Leader, Ren lost twenty-five percent of our defense force at Rataka. Without those ships, we can't defend Starkiller from an outside attack." Snoke's disapproving stare was magnified twenty times by the enormous hologram. Hux did not flinch or attempt to apologize. This fiasco was none of his doing. Ren had taken those ships without his permission, against his orders, and he refused to take any of the blame for the fallout.

"You will receive replacements within the week. See that these are not wasted, general."

Hux bristled at that, but it did give him an opening for his next request. "Supreme Leader, in future situations, I would like authority to veto Ren's use of the defense forces. I argued against his taking so many ships, but I was unable to stop him." Craning his neck back to look at Snoke's craggy, almost alien face made him feel very small.

"It does seem that many resources could be saved," Snoke said, leaning back in his chair. "But you are co-commanders, and I will not give one of you such power over the other. Ren is trained to do as he feels is best for the sake of the Order."

The best dejarik players knew exactly when to show their hands. "I worry that Ren's actions at Rataka were motivated by personal factors." Tha

"What makes you think this, general?"

From the man's tone, Hux knew he was entering dangerous territory, but he pushed forward all the same. "Our analyses of the battle transcripts suggest that the Resistance commander was no other than General Organa."

Snoke's brow furrowed at that. Interesting, that he should not have known already. "My decision still stands. I will not be questioned, General Hux." With that, the hologram fragmented into static before fading away.

The Supreme Leader had not remarked on Hux's knowledge of Ren's parentage. Perhaps he should be relieved. But Hux was far more interested in how unaware Snoke was of the situation. Ren, he was certain now, had sensed Organa's presence from systems away, for even the knight would not have made such a poor tactical decision if not motivated by the chance of defeating his mother. Though supposedly more powerful, Snoke had been unaware. Hux had assumed that Snoke was Ren's mentor in the ways of the Force, but more and more, he wondered if the man truly had any Force abilities at all. Surely he would have sensed Organa's presence if he was so powerful, perhaps even foreseen the attack before she could obliterate Nadire's fleet.

Ren was not a difficult man to manipulate. That much was obvious. But did Ren realize that his mentor was a sham, or did he believe that Snoke could teach him the ways of the Force? And if the opportunity arose, would Ren choose to ally himself with a false Force user over a far more competent but Force-blind individual?

More than likely, Hux thought, the answer lay with Ren's time with his uncle and former master, Luke Skywalker. The Jedi, from what he had read, always viewed themselves as somewhat above those who could not harness the power of the Force. It had been their undoing. For a single order, no matter how powerful Palpatine was, would never have been enough had the Jedi not spent centuries before that sitting in their beautiful Temple as those they swore to serve struggled. The world beyond the Temple's walls cared nothing for meditation or the will of the Force. Those people wanted only safety, security, and to be able to put enough food on eh table to feed their families. For that, they turned to the First Order, for Snoke and his advisors had quickly discovered what so many rulers before them had failed to fully grasp. Give the masses safety, some security that they will have enough tomorrow, you could take most anything else.

In contrast, the Rebellion had found their strongest supporters on the wealthiest of worlds. Alderaan, Corellia, Mon Calamari, Bothawui, the list went on. True, the Mon Cal and the Bothans had suffered under the hand of the Empire, just as all non-humans had, but they still had wealth born of centuries of privilege to cushion them from the worst treatment. The Emperor's hatred of alien species did not go so deep as to require harming species that directly benefited his reign. After all, what would any galactic regime be without spies, without warships to keep the systems in line? Those worlds had enough that they could start to wonder what life could be if they were allowed greater freedom of choice, of expression. Had the Alderaanians suffered during the Clone Wars, they would not have questioned the Empire's rule, and perhaps their planet would still exist today. It was terrible how they brought such an act of violence upon themselves.

The realization came far later than it should have. He already knew exactly how to control Kylo Ren. Give the man what he needed, and he would not attempt to take any more.

* * *

Hux hesitated for a moment outside the door before daring to knock. Even then, he did so softly, as if half hoping that the room's inhabitants would not hear him.

But little escaped a Force user. "Go away," Ren, ever the adolescent, shouted from inside.

"I want to talk to you." He was a general and the commander of this station. Any door on this planet should be opened to him with a single word, and yet here he stood, arguing for entry with a knight who insisted on acting like a child. Hux buried those thoughts, presenting instead his concern for Ren. The man had sworn to stay out of Hux's mind, but he had little faith in Ren's word.

"Go away."

"Please, Ren." He waited a moment for a reply, then added, more softly, "Are you all right?"

Finally, the door slid open, just as he knew it would, and Hux stepped inside. Ren had done a better job of maintaining this room than his quarters on the _Leveler._ Hux spotted no meals sitting half-eaten on the desk, no worn clothing left wherever it fell. There was a certain untidiness about the place that came through in the unmade bed and the desk left at an angle rather than flush against the wall, but Hux had come to expect that from Ren. His clothes, his anger, his lightsaber, all of it was sloppy. He could hardly expect the man's living quarters to be different.

Ren sat on the floor against the far wall, knees to his chest, practically folded in on himself. His helmet rested on the ground next to him. "Why are you here?" His tone was accusatory, and Hux flinched.

But it would take far more than a few scathing words to deter Hux from his mission. "I commed the medical bay, but they hadn't seen you. The transcripts said that your fighter had been damaged during the battle. I thought I would come and make sure that you weren't hurt." It was a lie, but one that he had practiced enough over the last hour that he doubted Ren would be able to sense it. In reality, he had watched Ren depart his fighter from the command center and traced his progress back to his quarters from security cam footage. Only after he had allowed Ren to stew in his self-pity for an hour had he headed off to the medbay to fetch his props. Hux set the medkit on the desk so Ren could see it. "Can I have a look?"

Ren stood up, clumsy as Hux had ever seen him. The man walked over to him, and Hux motioned him towards the chair. "I didn't take you for a healer, general."

"I'm not, but I took the same field medicine courses as everyone else. I can take care of anything minor and tell you to get to a medic if there's anything outside my scope of knowledge." He started gently, pushing back Ren's hair to get a better look at his face. The man had not showered since the battle, and his hair felt oily beneath Hux's fingers. "Is there anything I should know about?"

"Nothing major."

"Good." Hux moved in a few inches, standing close enough that their knees rubbed together when he started looking over Ren's face. There were a few small cuts, mostly on the right side of his face, but all had stopped bleeding. Hux reached for the medkit and found a pair of medical gloves. They would make the touch less intimate, but he had no great desire to catch any diseases that Ren might be carrying. Hux compensated by cupping Ren's face with one hand as he started applying bacta salve to a small cut above Ren's right eye. It was a safe choice, for if Ren questioned the contact, he could explain it simply as a way to keep the other man still as he worked. "I think we got to this soon enough that it won't scar."

Ren only nodded at that, and it felt so strange to feel the motion as much as see it. Between that, the way Ren's breath tickled the hairs of his arm, and the warmth Hux could feel even through his glove, he was sorely tempted to lean down and kiss Ren. But he had not come here for love, or lust, or any other weak human emotion. This was for power, for control, and he would only gain that if he could master his own emotions as well as Ren's.

He had moved on to another cut, this one perhaps a centimeter from his ear, when Ren leaned into his touch, rubbing his cheek against Hux's hand. The motion took Hux by surprise, and when he looked up to meet Ren's eyes, his breath caught in his throat. The man was looking up at him, dark eyes almost begging him closer. From this angle, his lashes looked impossibly long and thick, and Hux found himself leaning in. Ren grabbed a handful of his hair and squashed Hux's face against his own.

The kiss was nothing like those he had imagined over these past few months. Ren kissed with his teeth more than his lips, and no matter how Hux moved, the man's nose always seemed to be in the way. Still, Hux did not break away. Instead, he moved in closer, looping one leg over Ren's and running his gloved hands through the other man's hair. They surely made a ridiculous image, Ren seated, unbathed and with dozens of cuts marring his features, and Hux standing above him in full uniform with mussed hair and blue medical gloves.

When he deemed that a sufficient amount of time had passed, Hux withdrew. "I still have a few to take care of," he offered in explanation. It was a weak excuse, and he knew it, but he could not give in to Ren so easily. When Ren finally caught him, he had to feel like he had won something, not walked straight into a trap.


End file.
